


Burn it to the Ground.

by AuthorInDistress



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Other, Plot, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Solidarity, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/pseuds/AuthorInDistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony Stark is captured by Trolls with a habit for kidnapping people from each of the nine realms and keeping them as slaves. Tony's been taken for a purpose, however, and that's only to help move things on politically with his humiliation at their hand; him being a 'comrade' of Thors, that is, and nothing else in Odin's eyes. </p><p>Able to mingle with the other slaves, however, he becomes attached and hell-bent on freeing them all from this hell. Even at the expense of his own freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, short chapter, just to get the lay of the land for this _bizarre_ fic :)
> 
> There will be plot, surprisingly, and more development and so on. This is just to introduce it :D
> 
> Don't judge me :L

* * *

_._

_He can't breathe._

_His skin stings as he spins through the air, his hair flying as his helmet cracks and shutters off of him in pieces and he can't quite keep his eyes open against the assaulting wind_ _that flies dust into his face constantly. He holds a hand out, trying to brace for his fall, and he vaguely hears Thor shout his name before he's gone._

_And then they're all gone. And he's alone._

_._

* * *

 

.

It's night when Tony finally wakes. He shivers, blinking several times to clear his vision before he suddenly remembers.

This is it. This is the night.

 It has to be. 

He lies in the tent that he's currently been dumped in, an arm that's practically bigger than both his legs alone slung over his entire body as he 'sleeps', and the snores of a creature that shouldn't technically exist beside him. His heart pounds with adrenaline as he lies there, going through every stage of his rushed plan until he almost makes himself dizzy with fear.

But then, when he finally hears the last of the camp's fires being doused for the night, he wriggles immediately; turning on his stomach to crawl out from under that arm and head for the tent's flap. The tunic that he'd been forced into his first day here falls back into place from where it had been pushed to his stomach and he limps past the slumbering body of one of the guards, holding his breath.

No one stops him yet, not as soon as the other times anyway, and he prays that this is actually _it_. His final chance at getting the fuck out of here. Please. Please be his last try.

It's been three weeks since he'd fallen from the portal - or at least he _thinks_ \- and he's already tried to escape at least eleven times. He just needs to keep focusing on his team and know that they'll find him somehow.

They have to.

And if he tries to help them along the way by escaping _first_ then - well.

Turning the corner of another tent, he suddenly collides into someone else and lurches back with a bitten-off cry, immediately putting his hand over their mouth to muffle their similar scream, "No no no, _Shh_ _!_ " The 'slave' that he'd crashed into jerks back, calming themselves from the fright that they'd given each other, and glaring at him, "God, what the hell are you going _out here_?" Tony hisses at her.

Aleya's tunic, unlike his, is white and covered with the stains of the food that she likely uses to make the Trolls' meals;  _her_ job. The red of his one, however, signifies pleasure apparently. Something he's becoming less acquainted with recently. "The same as _you_." She whispers back, "You told me to meet you here."

" _No_. I _told_ you I'll come _get_ you." She winces when his whispers gets a little louder, and he ducks, putting a hand to his mouth before hissing at her again, "Doesn't matter. Did you get the knife?"

She nods quickly, looking around to make sure no one can see before reaching into her tunic's collar to pull out a knife that's probably been a little too close to things that she really ought to protect. She hands it to him immediately and he takes her by the hand, pulling her along through the tents. Some of the camp's Trolls are still wandering around this time of night and they hide as best they can.

Another of their pleasure-slaves has been forced against a slab of rock, arms held tight as a Troll thrusts into her from behind - Tony watches as she cries silently, his eyes dark, clenching his hands into fists in the memory of something similar happening to himself as well, and he almost rushes out to _do_ something before Aleya's hand on his arm reminds him where he is and what he's doing. 

He can't help her, much as he wants to, he can't do it as a slave. He needs to get out first.

They run again, hiding in the shadows until they finally see the gate that leads it's way out of here. "Okay." He crouches by it's opening, holding the knife tightly, "Stand watch." She nods, shaking as she does, and he suddenly feels a pang of guilt at bringing her along on this. But after all that he's seen here, at how these slaves are treated, at how _he's_ been treated, he can't just leave her behind. Not now.

" _Hurry._ " He ignores the start that her warning gives him and pries the knife through the gate's bars, sliding it through until he can wedge a finger in as well. The wind flaps at the end of his tunic and he squashes down the same sense of discomfort that he'd had the first moment that he'd realised he was utterly naked beneath it. It barely covers him as it is anyway so he might as well be; leaving his arms, legs and thighs completely exposed to the gaze of their captors and to the wind outside.

Purposeful, he knows, and that makes him hate it even more. The first thing he's doing on Earth is buying ten jumpers and sweats.

The gate creaks, making him pause for just a bit, before he then shivers and shoves the knife in further and faster, putting two of his hands in now and using his leg to try and put a little more force behind his heaving, "Aleya, put your hand here would you." She doesn't answer him, probably too terrified and too absorbed in staring at the camp, " _Aleya_ \- ?" He turns his head to look at her.

Cold washes over his face that has nothing to do with the wind and he slumps entirely.

"Give me the knife, mortal." Aleya stands with it's hand at her throat, clutching it tight enough to stop her from breathing. She's staring at him, wide-eyed and begging, and he's seen first hand what those hands can do to someone as small as her. Not as big as the Hulk's but he's still seen them do a _lot_ of damage.

Letting go of the gate, he turns to face the Troll with as blank a gaze as he can muster. He has to shut his eyes when Aleya chokes, however, in warning and he throws the knife to the ground; not wanting to see it fall and taunt him in his failure. "Don't cut yourself picking it up." He spits out, breathing heavily as he waits for a response, fear for Aleya overpowering anything he feels for himself because this is bad. 

Not only has he gotten himself caught _again_ , but now Aleya has too. He's gotten her into this and he knows that she won't be able to handle what they'll do to her. He should have just left her, God, why is he such an _idiot_? 

"Let her go." He tries shakily, predicting the laugh before it even happens.

A backhand knocks him to the ground and Aleya falls behind him before they're lifted and tossed over it's shoulders like sacks. She's crying now, so afraid of what'll happen to her, and he tries to reach out to touch her in comfort before stopping. This is his fault, he hasn't the right.

But then, no.

This is the - _things_ here, it's their fault. Not his, or hers, or any of these slaves. It's _them_.

And he swears to God, he'll kill them all.

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

He'd actually been in Alaska when the portal had opened in front of his team, right in the middle of a fight with Dr Doom's latest _toy_.

They'd fought hard against the wind that had been blown up all around it's 'magic', and Steve had even tried to evacuate the people living near before any of them could be sucked in; like Doom's toy had been. He remembers Thor flying up and drawing in electricity with his hammer, obviously having dealt with something like this before because he seemed to know that that would seal it shut. And Tony knows as well that he'd succeeded, because as soon as he'd been sucked in himself, the portal had closed right after him. Sealed shut.

After a brief panic attack and scream-fest, he'd abandoned his then-destroyed armor and had traveled a bit in the hopes that he'd been at least somewhere near Asgard, so that he could just find someone who knew Thor and who _liked_ Thor that could have gotten him back to Earth.

Unfortunately the first people that he'd found had actually been a camp of Trolls, or whatever they were, and they'd been a lot stronger than anything he'd ever faced alone before. He'd been overpowered before he'd even managed to try and run.

And that had been the start of his three weeks in hell.

Waking up in this place, in a tent that had billowed above him like the roof of a palace, he'd frozen as soon as he'd seen just what it was that he was wearing, and when he could _feel_ what had happened to his body when he'd been unconscious. He thinks that he'd thrown up too, he must have but he honestly can't remember. Not when other memories fight to become the most traumatic.

The tent hadn't even been guarded when he'd first stepped outside, and he'd immediately been assaulted by a stench that reminded him disgustingly of cattle. 

Moving around in a daze, everything had seemed either too big or too small and anyone he'd seen that had even looked _remotely_ human, or Asgardian, had darted past him with the same kind of fear that a beaten and petrified animal would show. None of them would answer his questions either, no matter how much he'd pleaded, so in the end he'd actually grabbed one of them by the wrist just as he'd tried to stumble past him (carrying plates of some awful smelling meal) but before he'd even been able to open his mouth, something huge and hard had slammed into his back and had knocked him straight to the ground.

He still has a mark on his back from that club, a dark bruise that just doesn't seem to want to go away.

"Is this the captured, then?" He'd rolled, staring up at what could only have been described as a Troll, breathing heavily past a tight throat as he'd darted his eyes all over it; trying to figure out what the hell had been happening because none of this could have been real.

These Trolls, or _creatures_ , seem to be everywhere around here however. And they aren't as slimy as they're typically depicted in storybooks; their skin is a lot like a human's, only tinged a slight grey and _hard_ , not soft. They each have bald heads, small eyes, and a roar that sends Tony falling to his knees, shaking. Their hands are also strong enough to crush rock and they stand at a horrible 7ft tall.

"He is small, is he not? For pleasure."

Another had come up behind Tony then, stopping him from running from them both when he'd scrambled to his feet, and for all his wit, he hadn't actually thought of a single thing to say. He'd mostly thought that he'd been dreaming, really. Why not? He's had weirder nightmares, but this, unfortunately, hadn't been one for the books.

"He fought us well before," A finger had prodded at his back and he'd tumbled forward, heart in his throat, caught by another's hands and held up for inspection, "We shall have him for pleasure anyhow." Tony had stared up at them, his mouth open with nothing coming out at all, "Rightful place for a mortal." The hand that had been holding him had then literally tossed him into another, and he'd curled his legs into himself, trying to squirm his way out, "Take him. He will need to know the law."

The slave that Tony had grabbed before had gazed at him sadly when he'd been lifted by the waist and slung over the back of the first Troll's shoulder. He hadn't realised _why_ until he'd actually been thrown back into the same tent as before and taught first-hand what the new law for him would be now.

Red tunics, he'd been told then, meant _pleasure_. Pleasure  _slave_. 

A little longer in the camp afterward, and he'd also discovered that attempts to escape are punished. But then, seeing as the punishments are mostly the same as what they use him for anyway it doesn't actually do it's work in stopping him from trying.

He's also learnt that most of the slaves here are just regular humans, like him, who were snatched through portals and brought here specifically to be brought down so low. In a 'mortals' place.

One of them, a young man from Detroit who wears a yellow tunic - yellow meaning minding the Trolls and cleaning every mess that they make; even _bathing_ them occasionally - has been here for three years.

Three. Whole. Years.

Which really begs the question. Why the hell has Odin, King of all this land, not _done_ anything about this?

 

**_~_ **

 

* * *

 

**_~_ **

 

Tony wakes feeling uncomfortably stiff and bruised.

Just like he always does.

He can't actually see at first, which sends a spike of pure fear shooting down his body at the assumption that something has been done to his eyes. But then he realizes that that's only because something's obscuring his view. When he notices _what_ that thing is, however, and when he feels what's happening to him, he clenches his fingers tight and lets out an uncontrollable cry; turning his face away in rejection to what's happening.

He's back. He'd been caught, God, he'd been _caught_.

Aleya!

" _God_ ... " His wrists are bound now, probably as a precaution, and they're pulled up over his head to stop any of his usual attempts at pulling free. He still kicks out viciously, almost animalistically screaming in his fury at this, "Get _off_ me!" The Troll's chuckle vibrates down his body and he shoves his left cheek over the ground, turning away from it completely until he can maybe just try to pretend that this isn't happening to him. 

"What did - _ah! -_ what did you do to Aleya? What did you do you - you _fucking_ pi - !" His hair is fisted into and used to move him into the thrusts, stinging his scalp horribly and forcing him to watch as he's used, "Don't - !"

"This one still refuses to obey." He sucks in a startled breath when he realizes that there's another in the room, shrinking in on himself though his tunic is shoved out of the way again, when it begins to slide down, "Take him _harder_."

As the Troll complies, Tony's face burns with every thrust and his eyes widen when short hairs are ripped out when the grip on his head tightens. The pain of it all is horrible but managable because it's really the _humiliation_ that does it. The fact that there isn't even a basis of human rights at all. The fact that isn't a person here.

He's a thing, an object, a _slave_ , a -

God that _hurts_.

" _Stop_ ..." He should probably be ashamed of how easily he seems to break but he can't stop himself from screaming when the Troll yanks him even closer, pressing inside further and slavering over his chest as he thrusts as hard as now commanded. It really is something out of a nightmare, and up close they're genuinely terrifying. He completely understands the other slaves' fears and their paranoias, because from here, being used like this, his heart's beating faster than anything and he knows that it's not all because of the rape.

The Trolls speak together for a moment in their own language, talking over his moaning like it's just background noise, before the other then leaves Tony alone with his abuser; leaving the flap open as though it doesn't really matter if anyone sees. And it doesn't. They all either fear or enjoy seeing this. Tony shuts his eyes against the warmth stinging behind his lids. Three weeks here already, maybe he really ought to be used to it by now, maybe he really ought to be _stronger._

But all these weeks have really done for him is just to show how painful being a captive can be. The ten rings, while still haunting with their memories, is nothing compared to this.

" _Stop_ ... "

"Keep silent, mortal."

Tony lashes out, trying to do something, anything, to just not _lie_ here like this, but his hands are still bound and his legs are gripped tight. So instead he growls out something filthy, biting his tongue when that only makes the Troll thrust in faster. "You still fight us." A tongue scrapes over his throat, dry and rough, and he grits his teeth against his disgust, "How amusing."

" _Fuck you_." His legs are bent back, his knees brushing against his stomach, and with the arc-reactor pressing further into him now it's more than a little painful. But unfortunately, his screaming only goes completely ignored as usual and he can't even get enough breath in to continue it when he's done. 

He doesn't feel when the Troll finally comes, which is a bigger relief than it should be. Their semen, he's found, is entirely different to a humans. It's as grey as their skin is and it's a lot more vicious. Cold and as slimy as the Trolls themselves are apparently 'supposed' to be, and with it stuck to him like it usually is, he can't help but feel revoltingly disgusting afterward.

The binds are ripped off of his hands before he can even blink, jolting him over the floor hard enough that he hits his head when he thumps back down, and the Troll leaves without another word.

_Someone get me out of here. Please._

Tony lies there, staring up at the material of the tent and trying to stop himself from breathing too fast now that he actually can again. His eyes still feel warm and he rubs his hands over them quickly, ignoring the fact that they're still trembling and trying to smother out anything that might show them how much this is affecting him. The tent's flap is still open after all, and he'll be _damned_ if he gets any of these Trolls to think that he's submissive.

He'll die first.

He can't move yet, however, everything hurts far too much. 

His arms shake as he uses them to struggle to stand, and he still falls to his knees the first few times he tries. Hand to his aching stomach, he furiously tugs his tunic down to cover himself again, uncharacteristically modest for so many reasons that he'd rather not think about right now. Because thinking of his situation only seems to remind him of just how useless it is trying to get out of it.

And if none of these other slaves have gotten out, and he _knows_ most have tried, then what chance as he got? They've been here for years, and some of them even have tools that they can use at their disposal too. Tony has nothing, he's only here for his body.

A hand suddenly grabs his shoulder when he tries to get to his feet again and he jerks back in shock. "Stay down." No. No, leave him _alone_. Lurching forward, he tries to get up and run, but his hair is only grabbed brutally and used to tug him back around. "You _will_ obey, me mortal. Do not, and another slave dies for you."

Tony spits in it's face before those words even fully process, and he screams behind the hand that grabs at his face, forcing him down when he struggles to get out from under that grip, "No - !"

It slides off of him when he bites, but likely hadn't even hurt anyway. He staggers back, his knees bruised from his scraping over the ground, and he stares up at it with a frown, "What - ? What do you _want_ with me? You're willing to kill others just to - "

His mouth is suddenly forced open mid-rant and he's shoved forward, his hands flicked away like the mere irritation that they likely are. The Troll shuts it's eyes above him and Tony shakes, his bare feet scrabbling to get a grip on the floor as he's literally maneuvered like a puppet into a position best suited to the fucking monster before him.

"You are here to pleasure, mortal. This wil - _keep still._ " Tony's hair is grabbed again and he chokes on what's utterly filled his mouth, his eyes watering and bile riding steadily through his throat. "And when Asgard's prince sees you this way, as our  _whore_ , we will have what we have always wanted."

Tony gags, slamming his hands over the Troll's legs several times, struggling to breathe and trying hard not to panic or to throw up because either would make things worse. It's only when he's shoved away and rolled onto his stomach, that those words even make the slightest bit of sense.

Asgard's Prince? ... _Thor_.

"I - " He keens at the weight that settles over his back, crying out at a renewal of the pain that he hasn't even recovered from yet. "Please." His head is pressed down and he screams into the dirt, trembling at the sound of more footsteps that he knows are others coming to either watch this or join in.

He has to get out of here.

A hand lifts his face from the ground, swiping his own saliva over it thoughtfully. Admiringly, even.

He'll get out. And if he does - _when_ he does.

He's going to raze this place to the fucking _ground_.

.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

.

They leave him after a few hours; curled on his side and shaking with his hands balled into fists by his mouth, his legs as close to his body as he can get them.

He aches all over, the chill from outside soothing his throbbing skin instead of making it worse like it usually does. It _had_ been worse, though, this time. This 'consequence' over his escape attempt. The tent's opening flutters behind him as he burrows his face further into the crook of his arm, whimpering when something wet slides between his legs. Either _blood_ or -

"God." He whispers, his throat sore, his voice hoarse, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the reminder of why that is. He doesn't even know when he first lets himself cry, but after all that's happened, he figures that now isn't such a bad time to. He does it silently, however, not exactly wanting anyone else nearby to hear him, hiding his tears away from this fucking _hell_ of a world. His fingers uncurl and tug at his hair, sliding through it in a way that used to comfort him, and his bare shoulders twitch with every muffled sob.

He can't do this again. He _can't_ -

A hand touches his spine and he flinches bodily, opening his mouth to scream at why _they just can't leave him alone_ , but another hand touches his shoulder and rubs at it softly, "Shh, It's alright, it's alright. I am not them. Calm yourself." He stills, blinking open his eyes and lifting his head to see a young woman kneeling beside him. He hadn't even heard her come in. "Stay still, or you will hurt yourself further."

Tony sucks in a breath, aware of how obvious it is that he's just been crying, but he can't actually bring himself to care right now. His arm is lifted in her grip and she slides her hands down it, focusing on whatever she's doing here. The color of her tunic shines a pale blue in the sunlight that's peeking through the tent. He's not seen blue before. "What - " His voice comes out as nothing more than a croak though, so ignoring how it makes him wince, he coughs slightly and tries again, "What are you supposed to be then?"

She glances at him, following his gaze to her tunic, "I heal." She then answers, and as if on cue the pain from his arm seems to vanish under her fingers. "Though, it is _rare_ for them to bring me for a slave." She takes his other arm then, sliding her hands down it as she speaks, not quite looking at him in a way that makes him wonder just how willingly she's here for this, "They must want you alive."

Tony swallows, taking his arm back when she's done and wrapping his own fingers around his wrist, rubbing at the marks that the binds had given them before, aware that while they're still there, they don't actually hurt as much anymore. "Lucky me."

She raises her eyebrows, her hands pulling at his tunic now without so much as a warning and he jerks back away from her, "Keep still. You will get ill if I leave these unattended."

" _Warn_ me a bit, then - " He snaps before completely freezing at the sound of heavy footsteps by the tent. They pass by, thank God, and he's only then aware of how still he'd actually become. How _afraid_. "I - "

"They will not come while you are injured like this." She informs him, and though her words are meant to be gentle she really ends up sounding incredibly cold. Hm. As she works, the pain all over the rest of his body slowly throbs along with her hands until it eventually dies down as well, letting him at least breathe without keening, and he shifts over the ground then, facing her fully.

"Where are you from?" She frowns slightly, her eyes on the bruises covering his stomach, "I mean. Before they got you, what world did you live in?"

"I once hailed from Vanaheim." She murmurs, helping him sit up now. He folds his legs under himself, wrapping his arms around his waist subconsciously, "Though my life before is merely a memory now, I have been here too long." Is that why she's so prickly? "As the elder here, however, I see the others. The - _slaves_ , as my children. Ones that I ought to protect." Tony looks up at her, not really sure if he's meant to respond or not, "And however _little_ I wish to, that does still include you."

"Little?" What'd he do?

"So I shall give you some advice, Anthony Stark." She stands then, speaking a little louder like she knows that Tony wants to interrupt her. And of course he does, he has a lot of questions right now, like how the hell does she know his _name_ , "Enough fighting. If you wish to die, then do it alone, but if you continue to endanger anyone else with your schemes then - "

"Woah, wait. Aleya _wanted_ to get out here, for your information. And who the hell can _blame_ her? I'm not going to just lie here and let them use us all like we're just - "

"Aleya is not a pleasure slave. Her work is less demeaning, and she'd learnt to accept it before you came." Tony stares at her, "Many of us accept it now, and so should you."

He scrambles to his feet before she can leave, blocking her way and forcing her to step back, "What, I should just accept that that my only purpose here is to be a _whore_? Where the hell do you get by saying that, when your fucking job is just to _heal_ them when they get hurt?"

"Others must be sacrificed for the safety of us all." She snaps, glaring him down. He grabs at her arm when she tries to leave again.

"So half of us should just lay down our _bodies_ so the rest of you can 'accept' this in peace? That's what you're saying to me?"

She swiped her arm back, "Precisely."

"Well I'm not okay with that."

Stepping into his space, she forces him to look up to meet her head-on, "Then perhaps you should look at the consequences of your actions last night. Hopefully _that_ will change you." He scoffs, stepping out of her way before pausing as soon as he realizes what she means.

"Wait. Consequences? They - what did they do to Aleya?" She continues to walk out, " _Hey_! What did they do to her?" God if they'd _killed_ her - He swallows past a suddenly dry throat. She's only a kid, they better not have, they  -

She's only twenty-four, he remembers. She'd told him when they'd first met; letting him hide in the tent that she works in, giving him food when he'd been starving.

"What did they do to her?" Turning to look at him over her shoulder, the Vanir glares icily, proving what she'd said before about every slave here being her child, "Please."

Sighing, she pulls aside the tent's flap, gripping it tightly, "Aleya was whipped through the night for her actions aiding you. She is tied to the stand with the order that no one is to release her."

" _Whipped_?" Shit. Feeling overwhelmingly sick all of a sudden, he takes a step back, watching as she then leaves him here without another word. He's already seen a whipping session before, had seen it _kill_ the slave tied there, and others had vomited from the strips of skin that had pealed from his back with every lash. God.

 _Aleya_.

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

 

He paces the tent for a few minutes, hating himself for even bringing her along in the first place. But then. He contradicts his own arguments all over again, reminding himself that he couldn't have just _left_ her here either. She'd wanted to come, she'd wanted to get out of here just like he still does.

Just like he _will_.

The camp is actually a little quiet when he finally steps outside, and he hunches through the wind, his arms wrapped round his waist as usual. The sun is still shining through, which does warm him, just slightly, as he walks. His bare feet scrape over the ground, however, and he ends up balancing on his toes instead, only now remembering that he'd hurt them before as well. The Vanir must not have noticed, or had just kept them like this to hurt him.

Bitch.

 _Accept_ it? Let them walk all over him like this? She's condemned half of the slaves here to a life of humiliation and abuse, just because she can't deal with any of them getting hurt trying to escape. If they all pulled together, why the hell can't they actually _do_ something? Some of them must have at one point, they can't all be so mindless now. Aleya hadn't been. But like him, she's new. Maybe staying here longer dulls it all out.

God, what if he ends up like that too then? Just _accepting_ it. He grits his teeth, sliding past a few slaves as they rush around holding plates, their tunics flying in the wind but none of them seem to care. Getting there on time is more important than anything even close to modesty, here.

It must be time to eat by now, then, so at least most of the Trolls will be busy getting the food-slaves to work, which means he's more likely to be left alone. Because of all this, no one really notices him as he quickly walks through the tents to try and find the main campfire. The stand should be near it, and though many of the Trolls usually eat around there, they'll be too busy to notice him. Feeding is important to them for some reason - something to do with their weird metabolism and body mass, so when it comes to eating they don't focus on much else.

The stand is caked with blood when he finds it, between the poles stuck through the ground in the centre of the camp. Aleya is naked between them, hanging from her arms and so horribly limp that he actually thinks she _is_ dead for just a moment. But then he notices her breathing and darts forward, cupping her face to lift it and see if she's awake, "Aleya?" Rubbing a thumb over her cheek leaves it sticky with blood. "God. _Aleya?_ " She moans softly, her eye-lids twitching, before suddenly struggling to move backward, her eyes flying open with a stuttered gasp, "Hey, it's okay, it's okay! It's me."

She stares at him, her chest heaving, wincing when she flares the wounds lashed over her back. He hasn't seen them yet, and he sort of doesn't really _want_ to. " ... Tony?"

"Yeah. It's me." He breathes, stepping toward to reach for the ropes holding her arms, "Hang on, I'll get you out of there."

"No!" Lurching backward, she cries out at whatever pain she feels, shaking her head, "No you can't. I have to - they said I have to stay here."

Tony drops his arms when she almost becomes hysterical with her pleading, putting his hands up to show that he'll not do it again, "Alright I won't, I won't. I - look, calm down. Aleya, you'll draw attention to us. Aleya. Aleya, stop it, you - _Aleya, shut up_." Sucking in a sharp breath at his urgency, she nods, swallowing visibly to try and stop herself from hyperventilating; watching and copying Tony's movements as he tries to calm her down. " _There_ we are. Just breathe, okay? _Breathe_."

She sniffs, her eyes wet, "I'm trying." He nods, pulling hair from her face and tucking it behind an ear, "But it _hurts_. God, Tony, it hurts so _badly_."

Tony presses his lips together, his teeth biting into the skin and he can't stop how tightly his chest seems to constrict at her words. "I'm so sorry." He wipes her tears away, "I should never have - " He stops, looking away for just a second, "I should never have taken you with me. I should have been more careful, shouldn't have gotten us caught, I - I'm _sorry_."

"I thought billionaires don't - apologize." She reminds him, raising an eyebrow with effort in a poor imitation of the look that he'd given her when he'd first said that to her; smiling softly as well. "Or was that a lie?" He almost laughs despite himself, not having done that in a _long_ time now, but then. Then he then hears the telling footsteps that he just _knows_ is one of them coming toward them.

Looks like eating time's over.

He turns before it can touch him, stepping back and in front of Aleya, protecting her with his body, "Cut her down." The Troll's eyes dart over him, and it crouches, smiling like Tony's the funniest thing in the world, "She'll get sick like this."

"Slaves do."

He's prodded in the chest with a finger, sending him sprawling, and the Troll laughs at his attempts to get back up again, "She'll _die_."

"Then she should not have tried to leave."

Tony avoids it's hand this time, " _I_ tried to leave. She wasn't there willingly, so if you want to whip someone, then whip _me_." He can hear Aleya breathing quickly behind him, each breath of hers blowing the hair on the back of his neck, and he tries to stand a little firmer when all that does is remind him of how afraid she always is. She's not going to die here, not like this.

Not if he can help it.

The Troll straightens before him, it's eyes narrowed now as it walks around the stand, it's gaze leering over Aleya's exposed body. Tony fights back the urge to try and cover her some more, sure that if he does, there'd be no way he'll be able to get her out of there. "Will you - " There's a whistling sound that's the only warning that either of them even get before Aleya's arching her back and _screaming_ when she's whipped all over again. Tony darts forward on instinct, flinching when there's another, " _Stop it!_ "

She sobs now, rough and loud, echoing through the camp along with Tony's calls for it to stop, "Stop! Stop - you'll _kill her_ , _stop it_!" He lunges forward, grabbing the Troll's arm with both of his, trying to force it down but he's flung backward like nothing more than a toy, hitting the ground hard. Aleya screams again, pleading herself for it to stop, and blood drips down her back and her legs, pooling at her feet.

 _No_.

"I'll _obey_!" Tony yells desperately, "I'll do whatever you say, I'll obey when _Prince_ is here!" At the mere _mention_ of Thor everything suddenly stops, and he's then glanced at with a lot more interest, "I - I won't fight back." He finishes, panting, "I swear. I'll do whatever you want me to in front of him, I will. But only if you cut her down, _right_ now - if you let her live." He steps forward, slowly, "None of them can die. You need to punish something, you punish _me_." Aleya blinks past the tears in her eyes, mouthing to him to stop, but he ignores her, focusing on the Troll before him. "And when Thor's here, I'll do whatever the hell you say."

Nothing happens, not for a while, before -

"We accept." A voice grunts from behind him, and them he's shoved aside by the one that he's known is the leader from day one. For one, it's the only one of them that wears some sort of sash over it's shoulder and torso, which kind of gives it all away. "Cut the slave down." Tony immediately rushes forward, catching her when she all but collapses to the ground once her strings are cut, and he ignores the blood seeping into the tunic; holding onto her tightly. She jolts in his arms, blood in her mouth.

He snaps his head up to look at Leader-Troll, "She's still _dying_." Other slaves crowd around now, watching as Tony struggles to keep another of them from slipping away, "I need - "

" _I_ will take her." The same Vanir woman as before steps forward from the crowd, glancing once at the Leader until she gains a nod, and then walking forward to take Aleya in her own arms. "Come with me." She tells Tony as well, heading over toward a separate tent a little way off. Tony staggers to his feet, blood still over his bare arms, hands and knees. Not to mention all over his tunic. He feels like he's just murdered someone.

He almost _had_. If Aleya dies, it's on him. He knows that. 

God, this is all so _fucking_ -

Stepping past the Trolls is somehow harder now that he's promised to obey, but none of them approach him as he does. Probably not really wanting him with all the blood anyway. He then runs into the tent once he's through, watching as Aleya is lain down over fur, rolled onto her stomach to have her wounds tended to. Her back is a mismatch of short and long cuts, dark clumps of bloody skin open and spread all over her. She's a _mess_. 

And he can't look away.

"Will she be - ?"

"Sit." Another healer tells him, taking him by the hand and leading him down to a stool. He sits in a daze, letting her wipe the blood from his face and hands, swiping over his skin gently with a wet cloth. He sits still, watching as the Vanir runs her hands over Aleya's skin, "That was brave of you." The other murmurs softly, smiling at him. 

"No it wasn't." He murmurs back, watching as Aleya is turned again, unconscious now, with a lot more healing to go through before she'll wake again, "It was _stupid_. She'd rather be dead, I know she would. I was just too fucking cowardly to let her."

"Aleya wants for many things," The Vanir tells him, coming over now that she's done what she can, "But she does not want to die. It _was_ brave. Well done."

Tony snorts dryly, looking at her, "Well _done_? I didn't go out there to swear obedience because of your _advice._ I did it to stop a friend from being killed."

She kneels before him, taking his other hand in hers and wiping the blood from it as well, "I know." Tony blinks twice, slowly, looking down at his lap, "My name is Yrana." She then offers after a pause. 

"Tony." He returns, "But - you already knew that, didn't you."

She smiles, standing with a groan, "Our masters do not gloat silently. They find your presence here - _joyful._ " Dipping the cloth into a bowl of water, she turns back, "I believe that is why they are so cruel with you."

"Well." Tony shrugs, "Like I said before. Lucky me."

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

 

Yrana lets Tony sit beside Aleya for a little while, hiding in here away from the Trolls. According to her, they leave the healers alone. Mostly because they're superstitious about magic and bad luck so on, but also because there's only a few and they can't afford to lose any. So this tent is actually sort of a sanctuary. He's not allowed to stay for too long though, so only an hour later, she tells him that he must leave.

"Aleya is in good hands." She informs him, handing him a new red tunic; one not so covered with blood.

"Give me a different color?" He asks, already knowing the answer before she says it.

"I could." She murmurs, putting it into his hands, "But they know you by face now. It will not work." He nods slowly, holding onto the material, before tossing it onto a table and turning away.

"Then I don't want it." The blood's dry now anyway, so there's no discomfort. It better like this, it serves as a reminder to himself, forcing him to not step out of line when Thor's here. Because the next time this won't be the blood of someone who's only _healing_.

As soon as he steps out the tent, however, there's a ruckus that he hadn't even heard from inside. Woah. Okay. Two Trolls tussle together, brutally clawing at each other's throats and chests, biting and punching while others jeer and goad them on. Slaves dodge the blows, running out of the way, while Tony stays where he is, his lips parting in surprise. One of them finally falls, the other lunging for it's head, grabbing it so easily before ripping it clean off.

Oh God. Blinking sharply at that, Tony turns away. They really are just _animals._

The head rolls when it's tossed, it's eyes still open and the winner stands on top of it's opponent's body, roaring out it's triumph.

"They are tense." The other healer murmurs as she passes him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He glances her questioningly, "Another band has called for battle. Many of them wish to fight it, while others do not."

"I'd've thought they'd  _all_ be up for something like that."

"They do not wish to lose their slaves to ones that did not _capture_ them." Oh. That's just fucking perfect. 

Tony grimaces, leaving her to her work to try and see if there's any way he can get some food now, as well. He's starting to feel a little light headed, and there's a tent specifically for the slaves to eat.

It's actually empty when he gets there too, for once, and he forces down some bread as best he can, knowing that it's likely the only time of the week he'll manage to get it before anyone else does. They're literally forced to scrambling around for food like dogs, around here, and the first few days he'd absolutely refused to sink that low and had starved himself instead. It's how he'd met Aleya. She's taken him secretly to the tent that she works in, handing him meat and cheese meant for the Trolls while he'd hidden behind the tables.

He really owes her a lot.

Which is why he won't leave her here. He won't risk her like that again though, he can't guarantee her safety if he does, but if there's a chance. Even a _slight_ chance that they can leave, he's getting her first. And anyone else who's willing to run as well.

He won't give up. The others _have_ to be fighting for this. Thor's been 'invited' here, so _he_ knows, and there's no reason for him to not tell anyone else. He'll get out of here, one way or another.

He just has to hold on.

.

He's still eating when he leaves, chewing quickly, and wondering if there's anyone else nearby that won't be too afraid to talk to him. It's a lot more useful to befriend one of the food-slaves he knows now, because like Aleya, they have access to knives, but what if he could -

"Ow - " Walking right into one of the Trolls standing there,  with his head down as he'd been thinking, he staggers back from the blow and snaps his head up to stare at it. He blinks when he realizes that it's the Leader and tries to quickly turn away, to slip past before he's recognized, but when a hand grabs at the edge of his tunic, he knows it's too late.

"Why _run_ , mortal?" He's spun around easily, "You swore to obey, did you not?"

Tony pushes himself back, "When _Thor's_ here, yeah. And I don't see him anywhere around here."

The Leader hums, lifting Tony's chin up with a finger, "Well the thunderer does follow his father's every whim." _Meaning?_ "So you will not see him for a while yet. But he will come." Tony gives the Troll the thumbs up, trying to turn around again, but a foot blocks his way when it stomps next to him, "But do _not_ obey, if you wish. _Fight_. I do enjoy it more when you all do." Tony starts backward at that but a hand swipes under his legs and knocks him down, "Not many do, now."

"Yeah, why do you - _think?"_ Tony spits, trying hard to crawl away, but there's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and there are Trolls everywhere. What the fuck _can_ he do? The only thing he can be grateful for is that something had been done to him the first day that he'd been brought here, which means that he's always loose, somehow. It's not to be nice, though. It makes sense for it to be for _them_ instead. Because who wants to ready a _toy_ for it's fucking? They'd rather just use them all, nice and prepared already - all the time.

But it still _hurts_. They may not be the Hulk, but they're big. If this didn't happen to him everyday, he thinks that maybe it would actually be easier 'accepting' it while he waits for the others to find him. Maybe that's how Yrana feels. She's never in this position, so why _care_?

The Leader spins him around again, lifting him up with a hand behind his back and arching him over, holding his legs apart with his other before moving in quickly, eagerly. Tony turns his face away, letting his head dangle down without there being any support behind it, but it jolts up anyway when he's first pressed into. " _God_ \- !"

He shuts his eyes against the sudden vertigo that his brain gives him when the Leader lowers him to the floor, thrusting into him easier now that it can actually get some leverage. Tony pushes at it's chest, pounding his fists over it's arms but nothing seems to get it to stop. It doesn't even seem to hurt at all, and it really does feel so much like _rock_ under his hands, hard and cold sliding into him, and he grits his teeth, turning his face away to stare at the sky instead.

Another slave passes them by, yellow-tunic'd with his head down, and Tony resists the urge to look him in the eye for help. He won't get it, he knows that, and having it refused hurts more than anything else. The Trolls shoves itself in, " _Ny_ \- !", holding Tony down. More slaves and Trolls pass them by as well, ignoring what's happening like the common occurrence it is. Tony's hands fist into the dirt at his sides, his ass in the air as the Leader moves to it's knees now, pulling at his waist instead of moving itself around.

" _Děvka to má rád_." Another of them says, leaning against a tent's pole as it watches. Tony glares from where he is, hoping that the murdering he's imagining for them all shines through his eyes well enough that they know. Leader grunts it's agreement, before turning over, bringing Tony with him, and - " ** _Ah -_!** "

Tony falls forward, his face smacking right into the Troll's chest as he cries out when he's _still_ thrusted into, his arms shaking as he tries to sit up to try and ease the pain a little, but he's pushed down every time. God, he _can't_ \- "Hold him." With the order given, hands are then immediately gripping at Tony's arms, covering them almost entirely and using them to lift him up again and _again_ , forcing him to _ride_ it, and -

 _Jesus_ , he turns his face away, trying to ignore all of the sounds that he's making and the sensation that this is all giving him. He feels worn, stretched out, and his face burns at the nonchalant treatment. " _Duh_ \- " The second Troll shoves him forward suddenly, still holding onto his arms, and the Leader thrusts in faster, getting close which only means that it'll get harder. Tony bites his lip, gagging at the smell now that he's so near it's mouth, and he _keens_ at the pace; wincing when new bruises are pressed into his arms and waist.

When it's over, he's rather crudely just shoved to the ground when the Leader finally comes inside him, pushed away now that he's finished his _job_. After a moment where he struggles to catch his breath, he tries to then push himself up, wanting to move away before -

His arms are grabbed again, pulled behind his back, " _No!_ " The Leader sits back this time, _his_ turn to watch instead, and he orders another slave to bring him food just as Tony's thrusted into again. He crawls forward, like the animal they treat him as, shaking as his shoulders are pulled until he's no choice but to collapse and curl up; letting it happen to him all over again.

The slave returns during it all, his eyes fixed on Tony as he does, before he's only hit across the face for being too slow to hand the food over; too distracted in watching Tony's humiliation.

"I - I'm sorry." The meat is handed over, and he scurries away quickly, not looking at Tony at all now.

Dirt flies beneath each breath of his as he lies over the ground, his stomach cramping awfully until he finally vomits the bread he'd eaten before, as he's still used.

It doesn't take long for him to pass out after that.

 

.

* * *

 

.

 

Tony wakes _hurting_.

It hurts almost as bad as it had last night but he's sure that at least this time, he can walk. Rolling onto his side, he winces automatically when his stomach cramps again, hissing at the pain that stings everywhere. " _Ow_." He tries to sit up, before suddenly growing utterly _cold_ when he notices that the Leader is still sitting here; watching him.

He swallows, both wanting to and not wanting to turn away all at the same time - ending up with a weird jerk of a movement instead. " _So_ much fight in you mortal." The Troll comments, drinking heavily from a skinned flask. Please be drunk and stupid right now. _Please_ be drunk and stupid right now.

Tony slides over the ground, trying to get as far away from it as possible, but he's still pulled in with an arm around his shoulders, pressed against it's side, "You truly are a comrade of Thor's."

"Nugh." Tony lets out a sound of disgust, turning away from the smell but he's only tugged in closer, until he's practically sitting in it's lap, "Why's Thor such an _interest_ for you?" He asks instead, then, hoping that maybe this way he can at least get some answers. Something that might make it worth it.

"The Prince killed _too_ many of us." Wow, he actually answered.

"They probably _deserved_ it." Tony spits, before sucking in a gasp when the hand around his waist _pinches_. He tries not to struggle though, well aware of how bad an idea that would be right now, "Alright. Alright, I'm sorry. I - "

"You _will_ be." The Leader growls, the flask dropped and forgotten, " _As_ will the Thunderer. He will be _sorry_ for what he did to my kind." Tony tenses over it's legs, sensing the genuine anger that's now filtering into those words, but before he can even say anything the breath is suddenly knocked out of him when the Troll stands, sending him falling to the ground again, "He will see _you_. His _friend_." A hand grabs at his face, covering his mouth and _squeezing._ Tony's scream muffles behind it as he tries to pry the hand off of him, his eyes tearing up, "He will see you as naught but a _whore_ now, will see that you obey our every word as slave, and he will _suffer_." Tony punches it's hand but it still doesn't move and he moans when it only grips tighter, " _You_ \- will bring us - our _satisfaction_."

Finally letting him go, Tony thuds to the floor, his jaw throbbing along with his gums. He flinches when a foot blocks his vision, staying exactly where he is until the Leader finally does leave him, listening carefully until it's footsteps eventually fade away completely. "Ah - " He feels as disgusting as he usually does afterward, wobbling to his feet with a lot more effort than he thought he'd need while putting a hand to his spinning head. "Mm."

So Thor killed a bunch of these monsters, and now they want Thor to see a friend of his brought down so low. And that friend is him. Wonderful. He isn't even here for _him_ , he's here to punish someone else. _Fuck this_.

He tries not to stand there for too long, afraid that another Troll will only come and use him all over again, so instead of just wandering around as well or letting himself walk right into Trolls who'll only want to rape him, he immediately heads for the healing tent for safety.

He also really wants to see how Aleya is, too. 

However, he pauses when the same male slave as before moves past him before realizing who he is and immediately turning in the opposite direction to run away, "Hey." Tony stops him, his voice sounding awful even to his own ears. He must _look_ even worse. "I won't bite. Promise."

"I know." The guy looks around, as though worried they'll hear them talking, "I just - I - "

"It's okay." Tony shrugs, "You couldn't do anything, if that's what you're getting at."

He's looked at properly now, and the slave steps forward again, his hesitation now suddenly gone, "Still. I'm sorry you had someone to witness it."

"There's _always_ someone witnessing it." Tony reminds him, gesturing around, "You get use - " He stops, almost swallowing his tongue when he realizes just what he'd been about to say.  " _Dammit_."

"It's alright." The guy tells him, smiling ruefully, "The longer you stay here, the longer you start to lose yourself in it."

"Yeah, well, I am _not_ going to do that." Tony snaps, wincing at a nearby growl from one of the Trolls before grabbing the guy by his wrist and pulling them both somewhere else, "And you shouldn't either."

The slave smiles at him, "Don't worry. I don't."

Tony frowns slightly, looking at him, "Who are you? What's your name, I mean?"

"Jesse. I - think I had a surname once, but whatever it was ... I can't remember it now." Tony doesn't ask how long he's been here, all too aware of how much that might affect him just by counting all the years stuck here, so he settles on a different question instead.

"And ... is there something else you want to tell me? Jesse?" He's smiled at. _Bingo_. Natasha's lessons actually stuck. He should tell her if - _when_ he sees her again.

"Yes. Be careful." Tony nods, raising an eyebrow, before leaning into a hug that Jesse starts, holding his breath when he's whispered in the ear, "Meet us all at the eating tent past guarding time."

"Us?" He whispers back, but all he gets is a finger to his lips before Jesse slips away quickly and hurries wherever to continue his duties. Tony stands there for a moment, trying hard to smother his smile, because  _yes_. This is good, this is good. Really good. He _knew_ he couldn't be the only one trying to get out of here.

At the eating tent past guarding time. Right.

He'll be there.

Rushing toward the healing tent again, he quickly slips through the flap, noticing the Yrana isn't actually here - Good - and that Aleya is awake, clothed in a new tunic and eating some kind of stew over the fur. Tony lets out a breath of relief as he stares at her. She's _awake._

She hasn't noticed him yet, so he takes the opportunity to rush forward and sit beside her, making her almost spill her stew in her haste to put it down when she finally sees him, "Hey." He greets, before choking on his next word when she doesn't even say anything in return and just grabs him; pulling him into one of the tightest hugs that he's ever had. "Woah okay."

" _Thank_ you." She whispers to him, holding onto him and shutting her eyes until he eventually relaxes against her, hugging her back with a smile.

"It's okay."

"No. No it's not. You swore to obey them, they'll be so horrible to you now, but - but you did it for _me_. Tony, I - "

"Hey, don't sweat it. It's fine. _I'll_ be fine." She moves back, obviously sensing his lie but not mentioning it, thankfully. Instead she just picks the stew up again, scooping it into her mouth with a spoon quietly. The silence between them builds for a little moment longer after that, and he swallows back some jokes, aware of how not appropriate they'd be right now, and not really in the mood himself either.

"Got any to spare?" He settles on after a while, instead, just as his stomach grumbles. Giggling at his reaction to that - wow, _that's_ a new sound, she must really be okay in here - she points to a larger bowl and he heads over to quickly pour some in for himself, eating it quickly.

"Stop it, you'll make yourself sick."

"I'm starving. Don't care." She lays a hand on his wrist, smiling at his behavior, but it immediately fades when he flinches at her touch.

"Oh. Oh I'm _sorry -_ "

"No, no, it's fine." He puts the stew down and takes her hand in his, holding onto it tightly when he notices how she's started to withdraw into herself again. "It's _fine_. You didn't hurt me, alright? It's them, not you. Don't you _ever_ forget that. Aleya? Aleya, look at me." She flicks her eyes up, "You're not guilty of _anything_ , you understand? It's all _them."_

 _"_ It's them _._ " She repeats in a murmur, staring into his eyes.

"That's right." He lets her go then, moving her hand back to her bowl, "And I'm gonna get out here. And so are you sweetheart. We're gonna leave. You just - keep reminding yourself of that. We're _going_ to get out of here." She nods, smiling again.

"Yes. We are."

He smiles back, tucking a strand of her hair behind an ear again. "Now eat up. You need your strength." She grins again, something so rare that it almost hurts to look at, and continues to eat. Tony turns to look through the tent's flap at the sky, watching as the sun begins to set. 

_After guarding time in the eating tent._

Hopefully. Hopefully that's just the start he needs.   

 

* * *

                    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _Děvka to má rád_ = "Bitch likes it".
> 
> Correct me if I'm wrong though ;)


	3. Chapter 3

 .  

Tony lies awake, his eyes squeezed shut and his body as limp as he can make it; to only pretend unconsciousness.

He knows he should at least try to sleep for just a bit, but he's afraid he'll miss the gong and miss his chance. His palm is covered entirely in crescents from his nails, dug in to keep him from drifting. He shifts slightly, trying to get a little more comfortable as he waits before -

A light thud from outside of the tent that he'd been directed to before thrums through his skin with it's vibration. He focuses on that instead then, just _waiting_ for the last gong of the bell to signal the swapping of guards. The Troll walking outside steps in for a moment and he tenses automatically, his back to it anyway but he still hesitates to slide his eyes open - just slightly - to stare at it's shadow over the ground. Another slave must be awake though, obviously so, and the Troll lifts him, the red of his tunic shining in the firelight.

The gong must be soon then.

With some more thrumming, and thudding footsteps, it's gone. Tony shuts his eyes again, letting out the breath he'd held as he clenches his hands over the fur beneath him. None of the other slaves stir at all, none of them aware of what had just happened. _Good._ At least once in a while, they should all be able to sleep peacefully.

It's tragically rare around here.

Shifting over the fur, he rolls over toward the flap now, staring through it to see that same slave's hands pinned to the ground. He can't see anything much else, but he can _hear_ it and that's bad enough. Covering his ears with his hands, he burrows himself down and sucks in breath after sharp breath, shaking with both disgust and anger. He should _do_ something about it, but he knows he can't. He's tried before and has only ever made it worse. For others, not him, or else he could handle it.

But just _lying_ here while it just -

The gong sounds into the silence, and the slave cries out when the Troll moves at that, loud enough for Tony to still hear him. A second gong and the signal for changing guards has finally come.

Tony slowly sits up himself, peering though the flap to see the Troll move off, the slave it had taken before now limp in it's hands. He hopes they all rot in _hell_ one day. Sliding out of the tent, his heart in his throat, he watches it leave it's post now for the other to take over. Which means he has about five minutes.

Okay. Let's see if he can find the eating tent in the dark.

It's _freezing_ when he finally ventures out and he holds himself around the waist, his bare legs shaking as he runs as silently as he can through the camp. The first time that he enters a tent, however, he gets it wrong and almost walks right into the _Leader_. He back-pedals out immediately, almost tripping up anyway and waking it, but he makes it away safely and hides behind one of the rocks nearby, catching the breath that he'd let out with adrenaline.

God, that was too close.

He continues to sneak around after that, now incredibly wary of every step and stumble and every tent that he passes, but he soon begins to grow frustrated with himself when he can't even _find_ it. They're all so similar, and he usually uses the light to direct his way with it's shadows, so without it he's -

Twin thuds behind him almost knock him clean off of his feet. He freezes, his heart faltering for just a second before suddenly beating in record time. "Which slave would you prefer to die for you, mortal?"

Tony spins around, biting his lip and thinking too hard and too _fast_ that he just comes out all muddled, "I wasn't - I mean, you can't just - this isn't - " He stops, taking a breath, "I wasn't escaping, or anything. I swear." The Troll steps toward him, closer, but Tony doesn't move from where he is, staring up at it, "I _wasn't_. I just couldn't sleep. I was - uh. I was stretching my legs." It sounds feeble, even to him. The Troll's hand clenches at it's side, but it can't really use Tony right now anyway. He's on duty now, which means that it has a while before it can do what the other one had.

And hopefully Tony'll be gone and asleep by then.

His waist is suddenly grabbed too tightly, and he's lifted entirely off of the ground, brought up to meet it's gaze, "I will give you the choice."

"I wasn't. _Escaping_." Tony emphasizes, and the honesty of it must somehow bleed through because he's not threatened again, "I'm not even anywhere _near_ the gate. I just couldn't sleep, okay? I'll go back now. I promise." He's dropped, falling to his knees hard and wincing when he knocks against rock. "Ow - "

"Then _move_." He stumbles to his feet with a flinch, ducking out of it's way when it moves on past him, and turning toward the first tent that he sees, aware that it's still watching him. Once he's inside, though, he hears it leave him alone completely, and just stays where he is for a few more minutes, panting and glancing around at the other sleeping slaves scattered around.

No one's awake. 

Looking through the flap, he notices that the tent opposite contains Trolls, the usual sequence, making it easier for them to always find a midnight fuck if they want it. 

Which means that the one next to him is a slave one too. Shutting his eyes, he visualizes the camp, starting with where the gate is, and remembering that he'd passed the healing tent before too. Which means that he's heading in the right direction at least. The eating tent is either the one next to him, or the one diagonal to it. He sucks in a breath, looking through the flap to see if the guard isn't near, before darting out again.

He looks through each of the slave's tents as he passes, counting as he goes in his head with a _one, two, and a_ yes! Darting inside immediately, he slumps, sighing when it's mostly utterly dark, and automatically assuming that he's probably too late. _Dammit_. But then, when he approaches the table, a hand suddenly latches out onto his and pulls him down beneath it, a candle lighting Jesse's face before Tony can punch him on reflex. "Jesus - "

"Sorry." Jesse whispers back, and that's when Tony realizes that there's a few others here with them too. "But if one of them walks in here, then they _can't_ see us. Precautions, you know? So keep away from the flap." Tony nods with a grimace of understanding and they each slide out from under the table, crowding around toward the corner of the tent - as far away from it's entrance as they can get. "Okay." The candle only lights around three people, but from all the moving beside him, Tony guesses that there's a lot more than that. "First off. I, uh. I think we all want to say that what you did out there today was fucking _brave_."

Tony blinks, a little thrown, "What?"

"Saving that food-slave? Phew, when I saw you do that, I _knew_ you had to be a part of us." O-kay?

"And ... what are you all exactly?"

"Oh yeah. Well," The candle passes along, " _Me_ you know. The rest ..."

A young woman takes it next, wearing a red-stained tunic just like Tony's, hanging off of her skinny frame, "Hi. My name's Beth. It's an _honor_ to meet you Mr Stark. Though, I never expected it would be under circumstances like these." Tony just smiles even though she can't see him and makes a noise of agreement. The candle moves on and there are at least twelve of them by the end.

Not exactly enough for a _riot_ , but still. It's something. More than what Tony had thought were here before anyway. Five of them are Pleasure slaves, two Food, and the rest Sitters. They're all human too, all taken from their homes and all _trapped_ here like this.

"So what do you all do here? These meetings? What is this?"

"We help each other." A Pleasure Slave, Razul, tells him, "Remind each other not to break. Give advice on how to survive better, especially with the ones who have been here longer."

Right. "But what about escaping?"

"That's the thing." Jesse speaks up again, taking the candle back, "We - well, before _you_ came here, none of us even _dared_. I mean there was this one guy, but after what happened to him, we were all too freaked to do anything."

"Were?" Tony picks up, all too aware of what kind of punishment that 'guy' could have gone through to make them all so wary. It actually makes him a little sick to the stomach, because _look_ at them! They're all just ordinary people - people who've been stripped back and brought here to be treated like _cattle._

They don't deserve this.

"But _you._ You've not stopped _trying_. Even when they punish you like that. It's why we want you here with us." There are murmurs of agreement all around, and Tony looks at each their outlines as best he can, feeling a little of the weight on his shoulders lift just a tad, "And, well. We figured that if _anyone_ could think of a way out of here, it would be Tony Stark. Right?" More murmurs.

So there _isn't_ a plan. Just - people coming together to try and make their captivity easier. God, he knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. But still. This could still be _good_. And they need his help, which he can totally offer. But what about - "I can't." They all immediately stir around him, whispering their pleas like it's his fault, "I - look. They told me that the next time I try anything, they'll _kill_ one of you. I can't give them that opportunity."

"But that's what we're _saying_." Someone to his left says, "We want a plan. A _solid_ plan. One that will definitely work, so none of us can die." Jesse gestures around him as well, at all twelve of them.

What, just them? What about the others?

"Look, I hear you. I do. And it _could_ work. But there's still - "

"I'd rather _die_ than stay here for the rest of my life." One of the sitters says, and the rest of them crowd closer, showing their agreement in silence.

"Okay, look, just _wait_. I'm not saying that I won't, I'm just saying it's a risk - " Tony puts up both of his hands, taking a step back before freezing when they all hear footsteps nearby. Jesse immediately blows out the candle and they crouch down in sync, hiding in the dark. Tony stares at them, copying them at the last second but the guard doesn't even come in anyway, and passes them by. They still remain over the floor though, whispering quieter, "And I _will_ do it. I will. I'll help you." Jesse's face is lit by the moon and his smile shines, "But just - on _one_ condition."

"You ... you want something in _return_ for helping us?" Beth, he thinks?, asks softly; sounding a little put-off.

Tony tries his best to look at her outline in the dark. "No, not really. I just mean that I'm not gonna just get _you_ guys out." Raising his voice just a little, he clenches his fists at his sides over the ground, "I'm saying that if we're planning something, if we're all pulling together, then we need _everyone_ in. And I _mean_ everyone. I'm not leaving anyone behind to rot in this place."

For a while no one speaks.

Tony rubs at his forehead, sitting back on his feet, "I'm guessing you hate that idea?"

"It's not that. It's - you want to try getting _everyone_ out?" Someone whispers next to him, "No offense, but there's no _way_ you can pull that off."

"He can try." An elderly man by the name of Josef - a Sitter - puts a hand on Tony's shoulder, half his face lit up by the moon as well to show his smile, "And if you believe you can do it Mr Stark, then I agree _completely_."

"Call me Tony."

"But it's _impossible_."

Shaking his head, Tony rolls his eyes, "Oh trust me, I'll find a way. It's kinda of what I _do_. And it's all I'm giving you. _A_ _ll_ or nothing." The footsteps pound back, passing them by a second time. This is getting risky. "Look, I'll let you all think about it for a bit, okay? You can give me your answers tomorrow, somehow."

They crowd together at that and he waits as patiently as he can while still listening out for the guard. Then. After they all finally agree with his 'proposal', one by one, they all each sneak back out to find a tent to sleep in. Tony stays last, left alone with Josef and another Pleasure slave. They wait another five minutes before another of them can go.

"So," Tony starts, rubbing his hands over his bare arms to try and warm them up, "What else do you do here? You know, before you decided to start planning?"

Josef just smiles at him. He looks like he could have been someone's favorite relative once. A much-loved grandpa even. It makes Tony's throat ache with an emotion that he can't quite place, so he turns away instead, to look at the moon. "We tell any of the new slaves stolen how to survive."

"Oh really? And how's that?"

Josef looks over his shoulder just before he leaves him, his eyes just a little sad, "By doing as you're told."

Oh.

.

* * *

.

Aleya looks _much_ better in the morning.

Especially seeing as the first thing that she actually says to him is that _he_ looks like crap compared to her. "Thanks." He murmurs dryly, stealing some of her breakfast before being kicked out by the healers and told to stay away for at least a few hours.

He eats as he walks then, scanning through the camp for more of the other slaves, and trying to remember their faces from last night. He surprisingly finds Beth _immediately_ too and heads over to her before any of the Trolls try to grab him. They're all sort of lethargic in the early morning sunlight anyway so hopefully they'll all be safer for a just little longer because of that.

Beth's sitting over a rock, staring up at the sky and too exposed for her own good really, but from what they'd said yesterday, she probably knows enough to 'survive'. "Hey." He says as approaches her slowly, smiling when she scoots up a little for him to join her.

They sit in silence for a while then and he shares his bread, noticing that she doesn't actually bite into it.

"You're a better man than the newspapers used to tell me." She suddenly murmurs and he snorts softly, looking down.

"I'm really not. But thanks, anyway?" She shrugs slowly, actually _really_ thin that it's more than alarming, "Do you even eat?"

"I have bulimia." Oh. He grimaces, not quite sure what to say to that, "But I'm serious. Not - about my _eating_ , but - what you said yesterday. You are a better man." He just shrugs in answer, "And I do think it's a good idea too. Everyone should have a chance." Looking at him, she then emphasizes, " _If_ you can pull it off though. I want to go home, and I want to go alive."

"I'll think of something." He promises, and she nods at him, standing to move away now with a wave in goodbye toward him first. He stays there for a while longer himself, looking up at the clouds and wondering if he really _can_ do it.

He hopes to  _God_ he can. Or else he's just risking _hundreds_ of lives.

Hell of a responsibility - is this usually what Steve feels like when he calls the shots on their lives? And then. As usual, when thinking of someone from his team, his thoughts scatter toward them. He wonders how they all are. Wonders, not for the first time, if they're even looking for him. If Thor has told them. If Thor can even _help_ when he finally gets here. 

Or if this is actually where he's meant to di -

He starts violently when someone puts a hand over his shoulder, and spins around to stare at them, "You - um. You have to get up." He blinks, looking up at another pleasure slave - one he's not met before, "It's our turn to get clean today." The guy explains a little more and Tony nods, relaxing. Oh, right.

Thank _God._

Something around here that he actually, surprisingly, looks forward too. Or, maybe not so surprising. Getting rid of all their muck and fluid and _blood_. Who wouldn't want to do that more often than not? The slaves all have set days, however, which means that today must be _Tuesday_. Huh. It actually feels _weird_ thinking about days and dates now for some reason. Feels like it's part of a world that he's no longer a part of.

Hopefully it won't be that way when he gets back.

"Okay, I'm coming. Thanks." He stands, following the slave back to where they all usually crowd around to be led out to the waterfalls. They aren't far, and there's not even a way out that way either though, unfortunately. He'd tried before and had almost slid right down to his death instead. So now he just goes with the flow, and hey, isn't that what Josef means?

Do as you're told and you'll survive longer. And he _needs_ to survive. But with the knowledge of the others in that tent now, he actually feels a little at ease following orders, so maybe he _can_ do this. He just needs time. And strength. 

So long as they're just bland commands, he can handle it though. Like _walk here_ , or _eat_ _that_. Not so much on the 'hold still and let me fuck you' scale.

Five Trolls lead them their way, pushing and shoving them all along while their bare feet scrape up and over wet stone. The heat pounds over their backs and it's the only time Tony's actually grateful for the thin tunics, because they at least don't suffocate him with their warmth.

They're all left alone at the waterfalls when they reach them, each of them scrambling to find a slightly private spot, away from the Trolls, to strip and get themselves clean _finally_ ; under the utterly freezing and thundering shower of a waterfall. Of sorts. It's smaller than most, and the water shimmers, but it cleans him and that's all he'll care about right now.

Tony nestles himself in the crook between two rocks, stripping slowly and wincing when the sweat-covered material pulls at his cuts and dried blood. He tosses it down somewhere where it'll stay dry, and shivers under the water, pulling his hair back from his face and looking out to make sure that none of the Trolls get any ideas should they find him here. It's usually the place he showers in anyway, since the first day he'd come here, and no one else has disturbed him yet.

They're allowed a full fifteen minutes, normally, which is only because the Trolls enjoy the water as well. So he's time to relax just a bit too. The only time he really can. 

Running his hands down his arms, he scratches the mud and blood off of his skin and watches it flake off and slide down his stomach to pool somewhere near his feet. He shakes under the chill but it's more of a relief against the heat of their brief journey here really.

Closing his eyes to tilt his face up into the stream of water, the rocks taking the brunt of it's intensity so he only gets a manageable trickle, he sighs and shakes his head to let it all run out of his ears and down his neck.

"Room for one more?"

"Fuck - !" He jerks, slamming back into the rock in surprise and gasping in pain.

"Oh, God, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" Another slave stands before him, brunette, tall. Tanned. Tony recognizes him from a few other times, seeing him around the camp, but that's really about it.

"It's fine." He waves it off and rubs at his back, pulling his legs together in a show of modesty that he's not really had since childhood. "But you really shouldn't sneak up on me like that. I could have - taken your _head_ off." The guy laughs, rolling his shoulders back. His physique really is something. He doesn't exactly look like the type that the Trolls usually choose. "You're not a pleasure slave are you?"

"No, I'm Yellow. I was just kicked into mud and the Troll I'm in charge of wanted me clean." He grins, "Ironic right? When you see the state of _them_." Right. Tony raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"You don't look so muddy."

"Oh my tunic's worse, trust me. It's kinda drying off right now so I thought I'd join _you_ while I wait." He smiles a little awkwardly then, and that's when Tony gets it. He's flirting with him. _Oh_. What does he do? This isn't the time nor the place and he isn't really in the mood either. Who _flirts_ when they're a slave? Is he _new?_

"Sure." Tony murmurs, taking a step back to give him some space, "Why not?" The water splashes a little more over him when it first rains over the guy's head though, and he can't help but grin at that, rolling his eyes at his own height, "So. What're you called?"

"Dave." He nods at him, "And you're Tony Stark, right?"

"Can't a guy introduce _himself?_ " He's shrugged at, "Where are you from?"

"All over. I'm army." Yikes. "Got snatched up by these - _things_ a few months ago, while on recon. My team's probably been worried sick." Tony lowers his eyes in sympathy, "I mean. Hopefully. I did bug their asses whenever I got the chance."

And _that_ draws out a snort. He smiles up at him, shaking his head, but it only fades just a little when he then notices Dave's quick glance over his shoulder; not exactly subtle. "You, uh. Expecting anyone else?"

He frowns. "Just making sure that none of _them_ are around." Well that sounds ominous.

"Why? Is there something you need to say?" Tony then asks lightly, running his fingers through his still wet hair to make sure that there's nothing left in it that he hasn't washed away yet, "Or are you just ... cautious?"

Dave looks down at him, amused. "I got something to say."

Tony pauses for a just a moment then, peeking out himself to make sure that none of them are close, "Okay. Shoot." The guy makes a face. "Or - not?" He frowns. "What, did I just remind you of your army days or something? I mean, _sorry_ if I did but the word 'shoot' isn't - "

Dave huffs out a laugh. "It's fine. I was just thinking of how to say it." Tony blinks at him. "I've got information for you. Jesse told me what you're planning."

Oh. "Information?"

"Yeah. See I 'sit' for one of the Leader's 'friends', or whatever they are, and I hear things."

Tony leans forward, a lot more curious now, "What _kinda_ things?" Things about him maybe? He wouldn't be surprised.

Dave crosses his arms over his chest, leaning closer as well as though this is all one big private joke. "What'll you give me?"

That quite literally just flies over Tony's head. " _Huh_?"

"I just - I kind of want something in return. You know, for helping you?"

Tony blinks, and blinks again. And then he sees - he's _serious_. Well _that's_ perfect. Asshole alert coming up. Tony straightens, staring at him, "Do you."

Sensing the sudden sarcasm, Dave doesn't even back away and just shrugs at him slowly, "Yeah. I do. And I figured you'd want to hear it so you'd _give_ me something."

Wow, the fucking _nerve_. Tony sucks in a breath, turning away for just a second, "Well you figured wrong. I don't even _have_ anything to give to you." He gestures to himself, "I'm a slave just like you, remember. What do you even think I _could_ do." He scoffs, more than a little pissed off now, "I mean, you'd _think_ you'd tell me anyway because we're all kind of _in_ this mess together, but hey - !"

"I'm not so bad here, _actually_." Dave suddenly snaps back, crowding in his space, "The Trolls don't shove me around as much as they do with _you_ guys." Oh great. Another fucking _Yrana_.

"Oh okay, and that just makes it _fine._ " Folding his arms across his chest, Tony glares at him, "So what _do_ you want? Like I said, I don't have anything, so unless you want something when we're _out_ of here from my company, I don't - "

"Nah. Here's good." Dave murmurs softly, interrupting him for a second time before then closing his eyes slightly and leaning forward all over again, reaching out to cup Tony's face in his hands and pull him closer to -

Tony shoves him away, "What the _hell are you doing_?"

Dave frowns. "You're a pleasure slave. I'm just getting something in return." Oh God. Tony shoves him again, _hard_ , staggering himself from the force behind it.

"Get the hell away from me." He spits out, clenching his hands and feeling  _filthy_ for having flirted back with him now, "Fuck, are you even _serious_ , you asshole?"

All he gets is another fucking _shrug._ "Fine. Suit yourself. Go without the info."

Tony scoffs, "Oh, I'm sure I'll live."

"Yeah _you_ will. But from what the Trolls say, you're protective over everyone else. You going to risk them too?" Tony raises his hands, really wanting to punch him right now but a fight wouldn't be in his best interests so he rages verbally instead. 

"Are you seriously guilt-tripping me into letting you _fuck_ me?" Jesus, this is _disgusting_ , "God, you're as bad as them aren't you. Get the hell away from me. _Ri_ _ght_ now." He starts forward when Dave only comes closer. 

"Alright!" He raises his hands in surrender, "I'll _go_ , forget it." Tony watches him go, still glaring until he finally disappears from his view, and then he just slumps back against the rock, shutting his eyes with a groan and biting hard through his bottom lip. So drained over nothing, or something, or  _what_? He doesn't even know how to feel right now and he really wants something to hit but all there is, is rock and he'd rather keep all his bones. 

God. What _else_ is this freaking place doing to throw at him.

.

* * *

                                                           


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

.

Dave doesn't approach him again after that, despite glancing at him several time as they all head back to the camp.

Tony runs straight for the healers tent anyway, struggling to stay away from all of the leering gazes that seem to crawl all over him, suddenly a whole lot more uncomfortable with his predicament than he ever was before. Aleya isn't there though, obviously healed and been released now, and he doesn't know where to find her, doesn't know who else to talk to right now, so he just sort of slides down to sit over a chair and hold himself; fetal.

Yrana, typically, is the one who finds him like that, "You again." He doesn't move and after a pause, she comes over a second time, "What happened to you? Are you injured?" He still doesn't answer, letting her run her hands over his skin to see whether he is or not, before stepping back to lift his head up with a finger, "Are you _harmed_?" She knows that he's not now but that's not what she's really asking is it.

He blinks at her slowly. "I _hate_ this place." His voice sounds hoarse even to himself and he just hunches his shoulders even more, shutting his eyes with a sigh, "I really fucking _hate_ this place." His head is let go then and he drops it, not even caring about whatever she's thinking or doing, but when a mug of something cool is pressed into his hands, he blinks himself alert to stare at her.

"Drink it. It will help."

Because he really wants drugs right now. Sniffing over the rim, he makes a face, "What is it?"

"It will calm you, nothing more." A little irritated that she thinks he's in need of something like that, he ignores whatever anything else is telling him and just drinks the whole thing down in one gulp. It's surprisingly - _pleasant_ , sweet-tasting with something a little sour to give him an aftertaste. It's something that he's not had in a long time.

"Gin." He snorts, looking up at her, "Where the hell did you get _Gin_ from?" She only smiles, taking the glass away from him before handing him some food as well. "I - What _is_ this?"

"Meat."

"No, I mean. Why are you doing this for me? You hate me." She sits beside him with a sigh, taking his hand in hers to rub her fingers over the cuts along his knuckles, smoothing them out until they disappear.

"I told you this before, Tony Stark. Each of us here, each slave stolen from their homes, no matter _who_ they are, are my _children_. And I will care for you all." She does the same to his other hand while he just looks at her, "Now tell me. What happened to you that make you think this?"

"What _didn't_ happen to me?" He tugs at his hair, putting the plate down over the floor and trying to breathe in a little slower just to stop himself from exploding with whatever emotion wins out, "I really need to get out of here."

"Then convince the Prince to help you." Tony glances at her, but she stands before he can really say anything, busying herself with something else now, "He will be here tonight, they said." _Thor._ He swallows, leaning back, "Now leave. This tent is not your place to stay in."

"Why not? Why _can't_ I just stay here?" He snaps, running a hand down his face.

She spins to glare down at him now, "Because these Trolls injure themselves regularly and if one were to come in here and see a _pleasure_ slave, I would rather not have to watch whilst healing them."

Oh of _course_. It's still all about _her_. Tony scoffs, pushing himself up to his feet and yanking the flap shut after him angrily, folding his arms across his chest as he quite literally stomps away from anyone else.

He just wants to be alone right now. Is there even anywhere he _can_ do that?

He barely even makes it a few meters away from the healing tent before his arm is grabbed, however, and he's quite literally pulled off of his feet and thrown into another tent, landing over the fur hard enough to burn his skin against it, "Ah - " His hips are grabbed and he's pulled up, pressed into. "God!" He shakes in it's grasp, curling his toes in as the regular heat pools all over his body, his head knocking over the ground when the pace only quickens.

Guess he _can't_ be alone then.

Tony arches his back with a cry, trying hard to give himself at least _some_ leverage to ease the pain a little, biting his lip when he notices that there's another Troll in here too. Fucking into someone else. His lips quiver when he draws in a shaky breath, clenching his hands into fists and staring up at the tent's roof instead, his eyes growing hot no matter how hard he tries to stop them. His cries mingle with the other slave's and he struggles so _hard_ to just zone out of here.

To be _anywhere_ but here. _Please_ -

He's thrusted into deeper, pulled closer, stubbed fingers digging into his thighs hard enough to actually make the tears finally fall. He grits his teeth, turning away, the tunic sliding down all the more to only expose him completely, and by the time the Troll's finishes, he's near catatonic with the extent of the wave of depression that's suddenly overwhelming him. He's dropped then, left there to curl up whilst now covered in a new batch of filth - right after the showers too - and after a few minutes of the slave wailing, the other Troll finishes too.

Pressing his lips together, Tony shoves his tunic down, angrily pulling it back into place just to give himself some semblance of modesty back, before glancing up at the slave just a few feet away. She's crying, silently, her back to him but her shoulders shaking with each sob. Poor kid.

Sighing, his heart hurting, he rolls over and before he even thinks about what he's doing, tries to stand.

Everything _hurts_ though, so he ends up crawling anyway, wincing and gasping with each stumble. She doesn't move, though, even though she probably does hear him, but when he puts a hand on her shoulder, her entire body grows rigid all over. "It's okay." He whispers, trying to tell her that he's not one of them, and she immediately turns - wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly that he almost falls over on top of her. She sobs into his chest, trembling so much that he doesn't even know what to do or say to try and make this better.

So he just holds her. Holds her and rubs at her back, rubs at her arms, pulls her tunic down and murmurs any words of comfort into her ear. As best he can. He only wishes, for the first time since his abduction actually, that there was someone here to hold _him_ too.

.

* * *

.

By afternoon time he's finally gotten answers from _seven_ of the twelve, and he's even convinced Jesse to sneak him a white tunic, giving it to the slave that he'd found in the tent. Her name is Rose Cadarvi, and she doesn't even _stop_ hugging him when he hands it over to her, changing them around right in front of him with the biggest show of trust that he's possibly ever had.

He just smiles at her gratitude, throwing the other tunic into the mud and stamping on it in the hope that it's not noticed for a long while yet, and giving her to Aleya - when he finally _finds_ her again - telling her to teach Rose everything that she has to do as a food-slave.

He then tells Aleya about all of the others in the eating tent, and leaves her to think over it all as well, before anyone catches them talking and decides to punish them. With Aleya, hopefully Rose'll be okay. He wishes that he could do that to _all_ of them though, but most are too well-known by their faces now, that it's impossible.

Rose is new, she'd told him. It was okay with her.

When he leaves the tent, though, he actually has no idea what to do then. He knows he should start planning, should start thinking of ideas and theories, but his mind's completely blank and all he can think is that _Thor'll_ be here soon. Maybe he won't have to do anything. Maybe Thor can save them all.

Could it really be that simple? Probably not. For all he knows, Thor might not even be here for _him._

He sighs, ducking around the back of a tent to quickly relieve himself instead, his eyes on the camp around to make sure that no one can see him, and he hopes that it's only a piss that he needs to do. Anything else and he'll feel as dirty as the Trolls, though there _are_ leaves around here that are good for cleaning. He'd found that out when he'd seen other slaves using them, and had tried it himself. They're soft, spongy, and leak dew all over his skin when he uses them to clean himself up.

Not really the _most_ hygienic thing to use, but he doesn't exactly have a wealth of other alternatives to choose from.

"You look like you could use a talk," Someone murmurs to him when he then walks back into the camp, and he spins around immediately, glaring at Dave when he realizes it's him, "You okay?"

"Fuck off." His arm is grabbed and used to turn him around, "Get. _off_ of me."

"No. Look, I'm _serious_ okay. I just want to talk." Tony looks up at him, unimpressed, " _Really_."

"Fine. Then get off my arm first." He's let go like he's on fire, and Dave takes a step back, "What do you want?"

"I just - wanted to make sure you were okay." He scoffs, "Look, I'm not a rapist or whatever you think I am, okay. I _stopped_ when you told me to."

"You still _asked_ in the first place." Tony drops his arms from where they had automatically folded across his chest and he stares at him in disbelief, "The so-called 'information' that you have shouldn't be a fucking excuse to get into someone's _pants._ "

"You don't technically _have_ any pants right now." Dave points out with a sneer. Tony scoffs again, turning to walk away.

He's _done_. "You know what, forget it." Dave runs in front of him though, blocking his way. He almost shoves himself past anyway but -

"Look, I get it, you're pissed. I should have just told you, but come on. Can you blame me? Almost anyone and everyone that I knew back in the town I grew up in had a crush on you. I just wanted the opportunity to - "

"Well that's _swell_." Tony hums, showing his disgust as obviously as he can, "Really. But 'come on', Dave. Think about this for a second."

Dave licks his lips, rolling his eyes slightly.

"It's more the fact that you _asked_ me here. That you _wanted_ it here. In _this_ situation, where it's happening all the time to innocent people and that that information could possibly save their _lives._ But you decided that a _fucking_ crush is more important. _That's_ why I'm 'pissed'." He shoulders past then, "Now get out of my way." Dave grabs at his wrist again however, harder this time and he winces.

 _"Listen_ Stark, I didn't force myself on you or anything so you've got no reason to be all - " They're suddenly pushed away so easily that Tony falls from the force. "Wha - " And only a second afterward, the Troll that had shoved them lifts him up only to dangle him over it's shoulder.

"You are needed now mortal." Is all it says and he watches as Dave stare at him when he's just carried away like that; like a fucking _bag_. Well. At least _that_ conversations over. Ironic he'd been saved by a Troll.

Slaves scramble out of their way as they walk and he jolts over it's shoulder, his stomach pressed against it's skin with enough pressure to make him feel nauseous, and the brief journey is over far longer than he would have liked. He's dropped then, made to stagger with a push until he slides to his knees, bracing himself with his hands to try not to scream with how much that had _hurt_.

"He is alive." Tony blinks, sitting back on his heels to look up a little easier, and he swallows past a too-dry throat when he sees who it is standing before him. He's here. "As promised."

Thor looks down at him, his eyes lowered, hands gripping Mjolnir tight, but he doesn't say anything in answer. Just _looks_.

Tony swallows a second time, trying to stand, but he's held down. So instead, he just settle for a weak grin. "Hi Thor."

.

* * *

.

The Trolls _clearly_ hate Odin.

And because they hate Odin, they hate _Thor_ too. Which basically means that, though he's a 'guest' here, they can be as rude and awful to him as they like. And they really are. Tony, alternatively, is tenderly made to sit over the Leader's lap beside Thor; not even allowed to touch any of the food that they eat before him.

He clenches his hands over his legs, mute in his humiliation, and he refuses to look at him at all; not really wanting to see whatever pity that there might be in his eyes. Apparently, as well, Thor is only here on behalf of _Odin,_ so it's not for Tony. That stings more than it should. And it also means that whatever the Leader had told him before, about his purpose here, is half a lie. Typical.

He's _incentive_ instead. Incentive to get Thor to try harder to convince Odin to agree to their demands. To give these Trolls some land of their own, and right now, _apparently_ , no one can attack them either. Because they won this land in 'battle' or something, so they're safe here. Meaning Odin can't do anything. They just want it official and want _more_.

Meaning Tony's a lot worse off than he'd thought.

He twitches with every movement from under him, his stomach rolling when he thinks about how he must _look,_ seething when he remembers that he'd promised to do as he's told as well, when Thor's here. He genuinely feels _sick_ at the thought of what they could do to him or what they could make _him_ do, and just tries to keep himself calm as they talk. Hopefully, sitting on their laps is as bad as it'll get.

"My father has said that he will hear you over this." The leader absently rolls it's hips beneath Tony, holding him in place as it listens, "But," Sighing, and looking away, Thor shuts his eyes for just a moment, "He will not bargain over one man. No matter who he is."

Tony grows cold all over, the third time it's happened over this conversation, staring up at the night sky instead and listening to the fire crackle. "The mortal is your comrade Thunderer."

"But he is not my _father's_. And it is _he_ that makes our laws, I cannot surpass him on that." Which makes sense, he guesses. But that doesn't stop it from hurting. The _leader_ clearly doesn't much like the answer either, because it stands abruptly, Tony falling off of it's lap only caught by another of them and pulled onto _their_ lap instead. God, this is so -

"Then the _mortal_ stays _here_." Thor glares up at it, breathing heavily with the usual tell-tale signs of his anger, and Tony hopes to _God_ that there won't be a fight because he hasn't got his armor and he _really_ wants to - "His life will be forfeit should the King refuse."

" _No_." Thor stands as well then, and Tony's held closer, moved into his view, "I will not allow that."

"Thor - " He's jerked, made to shut up, and he bites his tongue over his next words, grimacing. He wants to tell him though, wants to say that it's _okay_ , even when it's not.

"To fight us here would mean _war_ Thunderer." Tony tenses, glancing between them. Jesus, how did this get so serious. 

"I am not here to ignite war. I am here because you _asked_ of it. Now release the 'mortal', and Odin may agree to your terms as honor - "

"The mortal stays until that _land is OURS."_ The Trolls suddenly roar their agreement out around them all, and Tony's shoved to the ground again, "And he will be _ours_ to command." Lifting him up by his arms, Tony's pushed out toward the fire, made to stand before it. He feels tiny compared to them all, vulnerable with only that one thought too. Thor, the Trolls - just _standing_ here in his barely-there tunic, he feels like nothing at all. Not a threat. A thing. 

He shivers in the night's air.

"Dance." A Troll orders him, poking his back hard enough to send him sprawling. Thor steps forward again but forces himself to stop, clenching his fists and sitting again. He has duties, responsibilities. A kingdom to protect. Tony can't hate him for that, he can't. " _Dance_." He meets the Leader's eyes then, pleading. "You _swore_ to obey."

So it _can_ get worse than lap-sitting then. Tony swallows, blinking hard twice and pressing his lips together. He still can't just make his body move though, still can't make himself do it. He justifies it by thinking that it's only because there's no beat to go with but he _knows_ why. He just can't bring himself to _do_ it in front of someone he _knows_.

"Please." He doesn't even know that he'd whispered it before his tunic is suddenly yanked on, hard enough to _rip_. He falls to his knees, holding onto it with a cry.

"Stop this." Thor commands, the skies above the camp growing cloudier and cloudier. Thunder cracking into the dark. Shit, if this all spirals out of control, so many lives are going to be lost. The slaves - there's no one to protect them, no one to help them, and if Tony doesn't obey them then _Aleya -_

He stumbles to his feet, the shoulder of the tunic sliding down his arm from where the seams had torn, and he curls his body from side to side, trying to show that he's doing it. That he's dancing.

Shutting his eyes, ignoring the laughter, he bites down on the inside of his cheeks; not wanting to see Thor's _face_ as he goes along with this. A Troll pounds it's feet over the ground and Tony does his best to follow it as a beat, pulling at the tunic's shoulder to keep it from slipping down entirely. The fire's hot on his back, sweat pooling over his skin, and he's breathing so fast that he thinks he's going to pass out. But still, he dances.

"Odin's word is final." Thor then murmurs, his voice low in his fury, "But I will tell him of your demands." Tony sags when he's then held by the shoulders, meant to stop, and he's pulled back into another's lap, thrusted into so abruptly that he actually screams. Thor doesn't look at him but it's obvious from where he stands that he wants to. Tony himself tries to look away as well, but his head's only turned back by the hair until he's no choice but to look at him as he's lifted up by his thighs and fucked into like this.

He chokes back an insult, knowing that he _can't_ , knowing that he's jeopardizing someone else's life if he even _thinks_ of doing something right now, but it's still humiliating. No. No, it's more than that, it's _worse_ than that.

"I wish to talk with him before I leave."

"So be it."

Tony's kicked off again and he lands on his stomach this time, panting over the ground. The Trolls then stand to scatter elsewhere and to let the Leader finish this 'meeting' alone. Thor strides over to him quickly, crouching and pulling at his tunic to cover him a little more, his eyes so fucking sad.

"Anthony - "

"I'm fine, it's fine." He struggles to sit up himself, clinging to his friend's arm for help, "Just - don't, okay? Please." Thor only nods slowly, his eyes darting all over him with an expression that makes him ache to look at. "Thor? Buddy?" His face is cupped and lifted to meet his gaze head on. "Get me the _hell_ out of here."

"I am doing what I can, I assure you. I have not abandoned you here, but our _laws_ they - " He stops, gritting his teeth, before suddenly glancing subtly over his shoulder at the leader. He then leans closer, gripping Mjolnir beside him, "Anthony. I can take you away with me _now_ , if you will come. I can carry you back to Asgard where they cannot harm you. Give me your hand."

Tony blinks, staring at him, "What? But the - this demand thing or whatever, the war, what if you - ?"

"War will not come if you are no longer in their land. If I take you now, before they can stop me, the I can see you safe and - "

" _No_." Thor blinks in surprise, staring down at him, and in that little that it takes for him to recover, Tony's mind whirls with the faces of the other slaves. He owes them his help, he'd _promised_ them his help and he'd said that he'd plan for all of them. If he leaves them all now then so many of them will only die in the Trolls' rage over losing their only bargaining chip. Not to mention Aleya will probably be severely punished in his stead, killed even. He can't do that, not to _any_ of them.

He can't just leave.

It's all or nothing, he'd said it himself.

"I can't. Thor, I cant, I can't leave the others. The other slaves. They _need_ me." Thor looks down at him softly, pleading him with his eyes, "I'm sorry. I - but I _can't_. You just - you have to convince Odin harder or - " He sighs, "I'm sorry." There's a long pause between them and neither say anything much else, before Thor then leans even closer and gently places a hand over the top of Tony's head, smiling.

"Nay. You have _nothing_ to be sorry over, my friend." He then stands, helping Tony up as well and pulling him into a short hug, before approaching the Leader again. Tony sits down instead, rubbing at his throbbing knees and listening in on their conversation; trying and failing to stop his heart from _hurting_ so damn much at his fucking refusal, "I will take my leave now, _monster_. And return by the next new moon."

The next new moon. A month. God, that _long_? Tony worries over his bottom lip, looking at him as he does.

"And I will send an adviser to ensure that he is not killed nor brutally _wounded_ in my absence. If he is at all this _agreement_ is over." The Leader only looks at him with a frown and makes a gesture of understanding. And then, with just the one last glance at Tony, Thor's up in the sky and _gone._

Gone. Just like that.

Tony slumps, every bit of his energy leaving him all at once and he slowly puts his head in his hands. When he hears footsteps nearing him, however, he flies to his feet and backs away quickly, "Please. Please not tonight, I really - I _can't_ tonight, I just - " The leader only chuckles at his begging, lifting him up by his waist anyway.

"You _still_ believe that you have a choice in this." It continues to laugh, like it's one of the funniest things it's ever heard.

Tony only slides his eyes shut, utterly numb from this entire day. Dave, Yrana, Rose, Thor, and now _this_.

He just wants it _over._

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has Loki :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long and that it's so short! I had exams, you understand :)

* * *

 .

The next morning, Tony sits against the pole of a tent, inspecting a dark bruise over his inner thigh.

He leans back with a sigh, shutting his eyes to let the sun shine over his face instead, and wondering whether or not he _should_ have just taken Thor's offer.

He hasn't been able to think of a plan of any kind at all yet, at least - not one that won't get others killed, and he's worried that he could actually have done _more_ outside of the camp than within it. Maybe he's made a mistake.

A big one.

He chews over his bottom lip, picking at the skin with his teeth until it peels and bleeds. Running a hand down his face, he heaves himself up, ignoring how there's little to no stubble or growth of hair over his body at all. Whatever they'd done to him, to keep him 'nice to look at' and ready for whenever they'd like, he hopes will wear off or something once he's out of here.

His legs feel oddly strange as he walks, after having sat down for so long, and with so little hair there now to preserve some warmth, the regular chill in the air sends him shivering. Three sitters run past him in a hurry and the roar of a Troll makes him quickly turn direction and head another way; ducking his head and praying that he's unnoticed. There's blood between his legs, dry and sticky, and he can't deal with more today.

He needs to heal.

Last night, shaking under the arm of the Leader, he'd dreamt of the others again. Thor, mostly, but that was probably only because he'd actually seen him face-to-face. God, he misses them. So much. He misses his house, his _bed_ , Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. JARVIS.

Jesus, even _DUM-E_ and the others.

Most of all, though, he misses _not_ living in a constant state of fear and pain and even -

The wind picks up down the other end of the camp - the usual sign of one of their portals - and Tony heads over there quickly, holding his tunic down when it rises with the air. Five Trolls leave it behind them, carrying between them a struggling woman and an unconscious man. Not much of a batch, they usually grab more, and from the look on the Leader's face there's likely going to be a lot of fighting soon about it too.

Perfect.

Fighting does mean a lot more work for the healers but it also means that at least _one_ Troll will die in the midst of it, and that's inherently a good thing. Most of the slaves know to stay out of the way anyway, so no one else gets hurt during one of their brawls, and if they do they're usually just an idiot. But still. It's awful when that happens. When the Trolls don't watch their feet, or fists, and some poor slave gets trampled when passing by. The furthest tents are safer and they all huddle together in numbers for protection.

It's also a good time to get away with things that they normally wouldn't.

Before him, the woman is struck and a red tunic is given to her by a Sitter. Red. Of course, they like 'em feisty. God. Tony turns away, biting down his anger and the majority of his disgust; mostly at his complete inability to do anything about this. A food slave opposite the tent he stands beside catches his attention before he fully spins around, and he freezes.

The boy's young - maybe ten, eleven? And he's watching the scene with wide-eyes, shaking and holding onto a large plate of meat. His tunic is white, thank God, but still. He's so small, he shouldn't be _here_. The Leader steps toward the Trolls now, demanding to know why and how they expected to get away with only a batch of two humans, and the first punch starts the inevitable fight. A blur of color signifies the other slaves making a run for it to hide and protect themselves but the kid doesn't move.

He just stands there in shock.

Tony's shoved aside by a few Sitters as they race for another tent, and that snaps him out of his own shock before he's running toward him. "Hey!" The kid gives a start, turning to stare up at him, "What the hell are you doing, acting out the part of a _pole?_ Move it!" The fighting and roaring gets louder and they narrowly avoid a footfall just as they begin to run. Tony automatically takes the kid by his hand to pull him along and the next tent they find, they hide in.

It's the meal-tent for the food slaves, and it's practically empty. Mostly because it's actually a little too close to the brawl going on and the kid winces when their bellowing grows louder, glancing up at Tony warily enough to show his guilt, " _Sorry_." He then murmurs quickly, after a while and Tony shuts the flap, pulling up a stool and gesturing that he sit.

"Don't worry about it. We all get a little scared sometimes." That earns him a glare, "'Course you _weren't_ , anyway."

A small smile. Progress. "I just - wanted to see how _strong_ they were." Tony frowns at him a little, grabbing a loaf of bread that would usually be off-limits and breaking it in half to share.

"Here." He even smiles back and the kid relaxes as he begins to take a bite, "They'll probably be at it for a while, so we may as well eat."

"Thanks." Tony shrugs, "Is - are you - is your name ... Tony?"

Either he's shy, or still a little frightened. Tony softens his gaze, regretting the way he'd spoken to him before now, "Yeah." He bites into the bread, "And you?"

"Kyle." A roar sounds a little closer and he hunches in the stool, shuffling it closer to him. Tony steps forward to help, leading him toward a different one at the far end of the tent instead; further away from all the fighting, "You've - um. Did you get hurt out there?"

"What?" Kyle points at his tunic, at the dark stains of blood. "Oh." He grimaces, picking at the bread, "No. That's, ah. That's not mine." That obviously makes Kyle a little more wary, so he elaborates, "A friend of mine got hurt."

"No, I know. You saved her, I heard about it." He smiles then, as though in awe, "I just - no one told me if she died. That's a lot of blood."

"Yeah. It is." Sighing, Tony looks down for a moment, "But she's okay. Not dead." Smiling again, Kyle nods, "And what d'you mean 'heard about it'?" He knew Jesse had, he'd been there to see it happen, but -

"No one's stopped talking about it. We all thought it was so _brave._ I mean - you put yourself in _danger_ like that just to help someone else." He ducks his head then, "It's how I knew you were IronMan. You're a hero."

Tony scoffs lightly, "Well. I try."

"My _dad_ was a hero too." Uh oh. "He - my mom said he'd fought against the aliens in New York." Was. Past tense. Tony sucks in a breath, not particularly wanting to talk about New York right now either. One traumatic memory is enough thanks. "She might be worried about me. Do you - ?" His voice breaks, "Do you think she is?"

Oh no. Tony bites his lips together before answering, "Yeah kid. I'm sure she's very worried about you." He eats the rest of the bread, chewing slowly, "How long have you been gone?"

"A few weeks, I think? I'm not sure." He wipes at his eyes, "I was on my way to school and this - this _light_ appeared." Portal. "I tried to run but they - "

"It's okay." Tears start to fall at the recall of his capture and Tony curses inwardly at bringing it up in the first place. God, he sucks at this sort of stuff, maybe he should have just started talking about the food or something. "It _will_ be, okay? Look. Look, listen to me. Kyle? Kyle listen." He stops finally, ceasing the slight choking that he's now doing and sniffing back his snot before it can run down along with his tears, "I'm going to get you out of here, alright? I'll get us all out of here and back to our homes, and our moms and to your shitty little _school._ " Kyle giggles a little at that, then, wiping at his face, "It'll be okay."

Without even giving the slight sign of movement, Kyle suddenly propels himself forward and wraps his arms around Tony's neck, clinging to him hard and crying into his shoulder. Tony staggers back from where he'd knelt, catching himself at the last moment and and he holds onto Kyle as well; at first, to keep his balance, but then to help calm him down. "No one's talk - talked to me for _ages_." Tony shuts his eyes slowly, holding onto him a little tighter, "I h - hate this place. I _hate_ it. I wan' to go _home_. I want to go _home_."

"You will kid." Tony glances up when another food-slave runs in, and that's when he notices that the fighting has now died down, "I promise you, you will."

**_~_ **

Kyle doesn't want to let go when a Troll comes inside, looking for Tony, but he's forced off by Rose once she arrives as well to prevent him from being hurt in Tony's stead.

He meets her gaze as he leaves, in thanks, and heads out after the Troll. The adviser is meant to be coming today, as Thor had said, so he assumes that he's being brought out to be shown to them, to be presented as unhurt. Though the blood on his tunic might cause a problem, maybe.

"Keep moving." The back of his neck is grabbed and he's thrown forward, hitting his knees over the ground hard enough to scrape the skin back, and he walks with a wince after that, "Stop again, mortal, and - "

"I'm _going_. Jesus." He ducks at a blow that could probably knock him down again, but he's scooped up by the waist afterward anyway, and slung over the Troll's back. Evidently he'd been too slow. When they reach the centre of the camp, he's dropped over the ground immediately and sprawls over onto his hands and knees, hissing when his already bleeding cuts are stung against the sand. Before he can even get up though, a foot plants itself over his back just firm enough to keep him down, and the back of his tunic is flipped up to expose his thighs and ass to the sun. " _Don_ \- !"

The Troll lifts him, ignoring the still-dry blood already there and pushes into him, not as rough as others but still able to drive the air from Tony's lungs in one. His arms shake when he tries to support his body and the foot slides off of him when the Troll finds the right angle for it's own pleasure, shoving Tony back with no regard for his wounds at all. His nails dig into the ground to try and cling on for grip but they're only broken when he's yanked around anyway, and his face bumps against rocks painfully with each thrust. "God - "

Footsteps sound in front of him then as well, and though that usually means he's got an audience or that others are going to join in, these sound far too light to be a Trolls. He glances up then, half expecting to see a slave standing there after being called for by the Troll behind, but when he sees leather boots instead - when he _recognizes_ those boots - he genuinely feels like he wants to throw up. And not _stop_ throwing up until he's sure that every last bit of any meal he's ever had is out of him and covering those boots so that he can never see them again.

"No - "

"Thor would class this as being 'harmed', Troll." Loki murmurs idly, crouching down until his chest is just in Tony's view, and he has to strain his eyes to look up at his face, still being thrusted into from behind.

"And you? What would you class this as?"

Smiling slowly down at him, Loki lowers his eyes, "Nothing more than putting a slave in it's place."

.

* * *

.

Tony runs.

He runs into the first empty tent that he can find and huddles into the furthest corner from the flap, wrapping his arms around himself and struggling to catch his breath. He was breathing too fast and too shallow and he couldn't seem to make himself stop, and thinking about it even more only made it worse somehow.

What the hell is Thor _thinking?_ Does he want Tony dead? God of all people, of _anyone_ he could have sent, he got his _brother_ to come out here. Shaking uncontrollably, Tony lowers his head onto his arms, forcing himself to breathe slower. God knows he loves the big guy but of all the fucking _ridiculous_ ideas that he has, this is the worse. What the _hell is he_ **_thinking?_**

 "Tony?" He jumps, snapping his head up, and Aleya's hand retracts from where it is reaching over to touch him, "Are you alright?"

His face is wet, he realizes. But not from crying, from fear. It's been so long since he's seen Loki that to see him in a situation like this actually scared the shit out of him. He wipes at it quickly, "Fine. I'm - fine." She doesn't look convinced but doesn't comment further and just sits back, watching him try to compose himself without much success. "Just a little - you know."

"Yeah." She tosses him an apple. A rare delicacy around here, and he grabs it, taking a bite after a second of just holding it and remembering how easy it would be to get one back home, "I know." While he crunches into the apple, she scoots around until she can sit beside him instead and despite the age-difference, she tugs him down until he can lay in her lap, his head against her chest where she ran her fingers through his hair. It was nice. A little - degrading possibly, but after all he's been through, he's had worse and it really was. Nice. "You're an idiot."

He shuts his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her fingers combing across his scalp, "Thanks."

"Sabina was there last night. She was serving food." Tony assumes that she's just another food-slave that he's not met yet, "She told me that you told Asgard's prince that you wouldn't go with him."

"She told you right." He bites into the apple again, chewing a little sulkily, "I'm not leaving any _one_ of you behind in this shithole."

Her fingers pause for half a second before continuing, and she pulls her legs under them both, holding Tony closer, "You're an idiot." He smiles, relaxing after his brief panic attack when she presses a kiss to his forehead, "A fucking _brave_ idiot, though. You remember that."

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He shuts his eyes again when her body shakes with her laugh, and the apple drops out of his hand when they eventually fall asleep like that.

 

**_~_ **

 

He must have been a lot more tired than ever, because he hadn't even woken up when Aleya had left to continue with her duties. Other slaves had piled into this same tent as well, to sleep for the night, and he'd dozed right through it all. Huh. First time he'd truly relaxed in a long while since being captured here, he's actually a little glad that he was able to take advantage of that feeling.

Or maybe he'd just been drained; his shock at seeing Loki more than he could handle here.

The Guard Troll's footsteps pass by the tent and he watches as the shadows move across the material, noting where it's headed and how fast. He almost dozes off again, after that, before a hand on his shoulder jerks him awake again. It's a small hand, tentatively touching him as though whoever it belongs to is afraid he'll lash out. It move when he rolls over anyhow, and he pauses when he sees Kyle kneeling just behind him.

"Hey." His voice is scratchy from sleep, but he doesn't bother clearing his throat in case he wakes someone else up, "You doing okay?" He notices the bruise immediately after Kyle shifts closer, "What happened?"

"I dropped food." There's a stain on his tunic, the food he'd dropped likely, and his voice is scratchy enough as well, though his likely indicates crying, "They got mad."

Tony rolls over completely now, frowning, "Well they're fucking bastards, anyway, aren't they. If they don't want their food dropped then they should make it themselves." His attempt at humor only gains him a small smile, so without thinking too much on what would happen if he says 'yes', he asks, "You want to sleep here with me for tonight?"

Face-lighting up at that, the kid nods and settles down beside Tony, snuggling in closer until he's comfortable and closing his eyes immediately. Tony huffs out a short laugh, a little surprised, and he blinks sharply when Kyle then wraps his arms around him in a hug; burrowing his face into Tony's tunic. God. He's not cut out for this.

He can't bring himself to push him away though, and after a few minutes of settling down again himself, he puts an arm around Kyle as well and shuts his eyes. Half way through the night, he wakes to the sound of a Troll entering another tent, and there's a muffled scream. Changing posts then.

Placing his hands over Kyle's ears should he have to listen too, seems like the right thing to do when the screaming continues.         

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Loki and Tony interactions next chapter ;) This was just his intro XD
> 
> Next chapter will also be longer, promise :P


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

.

"Is the sun _always_ so high here?"

Tony pushes past him as fast as he can, glaring at the ground as he walks, "Get the hell away from me."

"Mm. I'm afraid I can't." Following him from behind, Loki snags some bread to eat as he does, not even caring that the food-slave that had made it is likely to get into trouble when it's seen missing. "As _adviser_ , I must watch you always."

"Yeah watch and _enjoy_ too, right." He hears a hum of agreement and barely resists clenching his hands into fists and turning around to _slam_ them into the fucking bastard's head. "Well, how about this, huh? We both know you don't really want to be here, so why don't you just fuck off back to Asgard and send in a _real_ adviser?"

"There are no others. What Asgardian do you think would possibly wish to come to a _Troll's_ camp?" Pausing now, Tony winces when Loki brushes past him to stop from colliding.

"So you being here is some sort of punishment, then?" Nice. Thanks a _fucking_ lot, Thor.

"No. Me being here is to ensure that _you_ survive. If you die, or are brutally harmed, _I_ am killed as well." Huh. "A good enough incentive, wouldn't you say."

"Just a shame _I've_ got to die first, just for _you_ to get your final coming." All he gets is a sharp grin, all teeth and amusement, which just makes him want to turn tail and head in another direction to get away from it. "Anyway, as big a news as I am around here, you'll probably hear of my death pretty soon so no need to stick around."

"I can see your arrogance hasn't changed much."

"Likewise." Turning to cut across a different tent, Tony tries to lose Loki amidst the other slaves mingling around in here, but instead he walks right into Jesse instead. "Not right now." He quickly says before they can start a conversation, but by that time he's caught again, "Piss _off,_ already." A hand digs into his bare arm, pulling him from the crowd until he can be shoved into an empty tent instead. His feet scrape over the ground, twisting while he trips and it's mostly because of that that he allows Loki to get the upper hand in manhandling him further from the flap, "Hey - get _off_ me you - "

"Let me make this as clear as I can, Stark." His arm still isn't released and he can't quite find it in himself to try and pull it away, that same fear that he'd felt when first seeing Loki after all this time returning, "I do _not_ want to be here. There are several viler places that I could ask to go instead, so while I _am_ here, please do try to make my work a little easier by co-operating."

"No. I don't like being followed." Tony spits back, "And I _especially_ don't like it when some ugly, megalomaniac watches me every time I'm getting fucking _raped_ either!" Loki's eyebrows rise but he doesn't otherwise comment.

Plus, though he won't mention it to him, there's no telling what Loki would do if he even heard _rumors_ of what Tony is doing with a small group of the slaves here, and the risk that he would have them caught is too great to have him at Tony's back all the time. So - "I'll co-operate if you give me space."

"Just - space?" May as well not push it.

"Yes. You leave me alone, and whatever - _reports_ or shit that you need, you'll get." He's met with a mild glare. "Cross my heart." He's starting to lose feeling in his arm and gives it a shake to remind Loki that his deathly grip is still there, "You mind?"

With a sigh, he's let go, and Loki takes a step back, taking in the tent as he does to see what would be sleeping in here. It looks like a Troll's tent actually which - shit. Tony shouldn't be in here. He tries to move past to leave but he's blocked by an arm. "Thor will be here in a month. Try to stay alive until - "

"This is not a _slave_ tent, mortal." The flap opens and, of all of them to enter, the Leader ducks it's head in; completely ignoring Loki until it towers over Tony and backs him up into the material of tent behind. "You are not to be in here."

Perfect.

Perfect, perfect, _perfect!_

This is one of those rules that have the serious consequences when broken and if he hadn't been in trouble before, he _really_ is now. Shit. "Look, just -  just, don't blame _me_. Ask the fucking adviser here, he was the one - "

"I see no secrets here, Troll." Loki interrupts, waving an arm around in a gesture, "Why keep your slaves out?"

"Even my kin has the ability to be _subtle_ , trickster," Leader growls, turning away to face him and Tony takes the opportunity to try to slip away but his tunic is grabbed before he can even take another step and he's tugged back into place, "We do not have them in _plain_ sight."

Wait. Really? That's interesting.

His tunic, still ripped from last night, is torn even more when the Leader yanks him forward with it. "The agreement." Loki reminds it, lightly.

"He will not be too greatly wounded to meet that agreement." Despite that, whatever it's going to do to him still doesn't exactly sound good. God. Before he's finally slung over the Leader's shoulder, Tony quickly meets Loki's gaze and feeds as much hatred into it as he can, glaring viciously in his accusation that this punishment that he's about to receive is all _his_ fault.

Of all the things that could have made this situation so much worse for him, it's having Thor's baby brother come to visit.

.

* * *

.

 

The whip whistles down, the only warning that he gets before it buries itself into his skin and sends him screaming alongside the burn of pain that it gives him. His tunic lies in shreds at his feet, his bound hands lifted until only his toes touch the ground and with each lash, he loses his balance and pulls at the muscles in his arms until they brutally add to the pain.

Crying has never been something that he's been particularly ashamed of - mostly because it's so rare for him - but right now, in the centre of all the tents, naked and shaking, bleeding, crying, and screaming, he feels more ashamed at how he must look than he had when Thor had first seen him here. This - bound and attacked - is a vulnerability that he can't quite handle and _god_ , it hurts.

" _Stop - !"_

More lashes, over his thighs now, and blood drips down to pool and stick beneath his bruised toes. The sun has burnt this area of the ground all day, the only piece of the camp that isn't covered in sand, and it literally burns his skin as he tries to stand over it, roasting him as he screams out again and again. It hadn't even been his _fault_ this time.

Loki, the bastard that had caused this, isn't even around to watch - which is actually a relief, really - but it also makes Tony wonder just what he's doing instead. And he focuses on that, instead of how much pain he's in and what a pathetic picture he's making. This must have been how _Aleya_ had felt he realizes with a pang, and at the next lash, he shuts his eyes and presses his lips together to try to muffle his cries.

By the time the lashes are done, he's practically unconscious, out of it enough to not even shake aside the flies that buzz around his open wounds, and once the binds are cut he slumps to the ground and lies there; the rest of his body burning over the ground.

"Heal him." One of the healers, one that he's not met yet, tries to lift him but she's not quite strong enough. Tony falls with a cry, landing on his trembling arm. Uncalled, from out the crowd that always automatically gathers, two other slaves step forward and wordlessly carry Tony between them, as gently as they can. Which is - new. Very new, he doesn't think any of them have ever done that before and he - he should think some more on that but right now ... he'd rather pass out.

Unfortunately, it's not a long walk to the healing camp and he's laid down on his stomach as soon as a clean bed is found, the healer keeping him awake to ask where it hurts the most so that she can heal those parts first for him. He just replies: "Everywhere," before finally whispering, "Shoulders," And shaking uncontrollably at the change in temperature from outside. 

The flap opens after a few minutes and he hears light footsteps running toward him before his blurring vision is suddenly covered with Aleya, " _Tony._ " Her hands cup his face, gently holding it as she leans her forehead against his, "What did you do, why did they _do_ that to you as well, they didn't - "

"It seems that you slaves are not welcome inside the Troll's tents." Tony shuts his eyes, turning his face away and Aleya's hands slide off of him.

"Get the hell out of here. You aren't even supposed to be here, 'adviser' or not, and - "

"Don't. Leave it, Aleya," Talking hurts a little, but a vial of liquid that is poured down his throat seems to help some, "He won't - listen to you."

"He's supposed to be looking out for you, isn't he." Glaring at Loki, Aleya stands now, clenching her fists, "Well some job _you're_ doing! Where the hell were you when he was being bloody - "

"Fetch some water, Aleya." Sounds like Yrana. Great. Tony buries his face into his arms, wishing that they'd all go away and just wait until he's healed enough to fight his own battles, "This is a healing room, not a place for argument."

"'S a tent." Tony murmurs into his skin, muffled.

"What?"

"It's not a room - it's a _tent_." Smiling down at him at that, Aleya touches the back of his neck - the only uninjured part of him right now - and leaves to collect the water quickly.

"In trouble again, I see." Yrana moves past Loki, ignoring him as coolly as she usually is, and sits beside Tony to take over the healing, "You know that you will need a few days in here to properly heal before you can stand without - "

"No." It's so fucking stupid how _violently_ he jumps at the sound of another Troll's voice, but he does. Jolting so much he almost rolls off of the bed. "He is to be ready to walk _tonight_. Work harder."

"If you've need of him tonight, then perhaps a little less _whipping_ would have worked better for you." Loki mutters from where he stands, sliding down to sit over a stool and snagging a bandage in his hands to fiddle with.

Tony takes pleasure in seeing him utterly ignored again. 

"The days needed are because he is _mortal_ , not due to my skill." Yrana tries, "I cannot simply - "

"That's not - what he - _means._ " Glancing down at him she frowns, just as Aleya comes back inside as well, quickly walking around to avoid touching the Troll standing in the entrance, "Doesn't matter if'm fully healed or not. They wan' me then, anyway."

It's message now clear, the Troll leaves without another word, shoving Aleya aside. As it's order echoes around in Tony's head though, he notices that it's more than enough for a punishment involving an escape attempt, which also make him think some more too. What's so secret about their damn tents anyway, that him just _being_ in one has can lead to this?

And though it irritates him, he knows that he's got _Loki_ to thank for getting that little bit of information, seeing as he's actually been too scared to go inside himself; never quite sure when one was empty or not and not wanting to risk it.

Aleya kneels before him with the pail of water, and Yrana dips her hands inside, using her powers to help heal him. "Your own powers would be very useful here, Loki - of Asgard."

"Yes, they would." Meaning he won't use them.

Tony hisses, suddenly so aware that he's naked again that he actually flushes despite everything else that he's been through. Nudity should not be such an issue for him after all this, and it never really was before anyway, but for some reason - laid out like this with them all clothed and surrounding him - he can't help but feel his cheeks heat and a surge of embarrassment flow over him until he has to hide his face and hope that no one notices.

Aleya does, however, but she leans closer and places a hand over his head instead of announcing it, hiding his blush from view. And once Yrana has soothed his thighs, she covers his backside with a cloth as well.

God, if the situation were so different, and she and he were back on Earth, he _swears_ that he'd take her out somewhere special and wonderful, just to have a night of relaxation for the both of them. To have some fun together, for once, and not have to worry about having each other's backs in this messed up world of monsters and torture.

"Is there any particular reason that you're still here, if you're not even going to help?" She then asks Loki, her tone more biting than Tony's ever heard it, "Or are you just planning on sitting there like you're the Lord of everything and pretend that you're above us all even though _you're_ here as well?"

Ouch.

Loki's body tenses, and he sits straighter, looking Aleya in the eye, "I can easily _kill_ you, slave. Don't assume I can't."

"Actually I _can_. Murder any of us slaves, and you're _not_ a Troll? Instant death." Tony smiles into his arms, "So yeah. You _can't_ kill me."

"I can beat you."

"Just you fucking try." Tony snaps now, lifting his head a little higher up and wincing when Yrana tuts and pushes him back down. Loki turns to look at him, frowning slightly, glancing between them both.

"And here I thought friendship _between_ slaves was rare." As obvious an assumption as it is, it's so blatantly _clear_ that Loki's really loving this whole thing. This whole higher level that he now has over Tony right now, even if it means that he's below everyone else. At least he's not a _slave_.

"Just like _decent_ guys are." Tony snorts, earning another tut from Yrana, but Aleya looks pleased that someone finds her funny anyhow - and with a blink, Tony realizes that this is actually the most light-hearted that they've really been in a while. Huh. "I'm talking about you by the way."

"I'd gathered."

A press further down, and Tony cries out from Yrana's touch, fading back again before Aleya's hand over his wrist keeps him in the present, keeps him holding on.

"It's okay." The floor is red with his blood. It's not okay. But he can pretend. He's always been great at pretending. "I'm here." He snorts again, just to try and keep the slightly-building good mood up, and she taps at his head in response.

The flap opens again from behind, and most of them stiffen whilst Loki doesn't bother even turning around. One of the slaves that had carried Tony in enters, holding a tunic under his arm, looking both concerned and nervous all at the same time. Tony tries to sit up to see him properly but he's held down as he's healed and has to deal with craning his neck to watch as the guy comes closer, instead. "Um. Hi. Tony Stark ... isn't it?"

He nods slowly, "Thanks for the carry."

"Yeah." The guy, a food-slave, picks at the material of the tunic before gently laying it down over a clean table, "I - uh. Fixed it for you." The threads keeping the tunic together are so clear now that Tony actually looks, but they look strong too, sturdy enough to last hopefully, "They said that you'd have to be naked if I - I couldn't. So - yeah."

Aleya puts a hand on his shoulder but that only causes him to duck his head and wipe at the front of his neck in a gesture that probably shows his discomfort; if Tony's judgement over body language is as good as it's always been.

"Thank you." Tony offers, sincerely, "I'd rather the _tunic_ , really."

"Yeah. Me too." Turning to leave, the guy checks that there aren't any Trolls nearby, before looking over his shoulder and suddenly blurting out: "You help, you know? With all of us." Tony looks at him. "I'm glad you're on our side. Really. Some - some of us wouldn't have made it otherwise." What? Rubbing at the back of his neck, he turns away fully now, and walks to the flap, "Some like me."

"Wait - " But he's gone. As soon as he's left, Tony swallows past a suddenly dry-throat, and glances at Aleya questioningly.

"His name's Deshi." She tells him without him having to ask, "I've only really _heard_ about him, not met him, but he tried to commit suicide in the camp a few days ago apparently. It was a big deal with everyone who knew him because he was so serious, but then - after hearing about what you did, for _me_ , he - stopped." Smiling down at Tony, she squeezes his wrist, "You gave him hope, everyone says. Even he does."

A scoff from behind them is enough to make her roll her eyes, but the genuine fury in them shows him that the gesture isn't just something born from simple irritation but from actual anger at Loki being here. If she could, she probably may have punched him by now. God knows Tony wants to.

But fighting is punishable, and this punishment had almost killed him, he knows. If it weren't for the healers here, he _would_ be. Just as Aleya would have been had he not turned his body over for the Troll's and for Thor.

He's getting too close and too _hurt_ in all this, that he has to keep forcing himself to shove back the doubt that he won't make it to the corners of his mind, trying to think as optimistically about it all as he can. For everyone else's sake.

As Yrana continues soothing his skin and healing what she can under short-notice, he drifts off again and finally, falls unconscious.

"Aleya." He remembers himself sleepily murmuring, and when she answers, he adds softly, "I'm so scared that I'll _die_ here ... "

" _Shh_." A hand plants itself over his forehead and then he's gone.

 

~

* * *

 

**Asgard:**

* * *

 

 ~

Thor stands facing the city, his back to his chamber and his face hard against the setting sun.

Leaving Anthony behind there, in that  _place_ , had been hard. Harder than he had thought it would be as he had already played with the thought before even coming to the camp, in case he would have to make a decision like it. He had not been excepting Anthony himself to protest, but then. He has always found new ways to surprise.

The thought brings a smile to his face, quickly dampened when he remembers just who it is that he has sent out there to watch over his friend. Loki's treachery could be contained with the spell that ensured that with Anthony's death, his death would occur also; painfully and slowly. But it was still so cruel, in his own opinion, to send an enemy to care for a friend.

Especially with how Anthony is being treated at the Troll's hands in the first place. However, Loki is a _necessity,_ his father has assured him. No one else could be sly, clever and manipulative enough to discover what there was that the Trolls had hidden and how it was that they so easily captured mortals and took them from their homes.Once Loki had their secrets and had their power, Thor could strike.

Until then, as much as he hated it, he had to sit here ... and _wait_.           

.  


	7. Chapter 7

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* * *

 

The same Troll returns for him at dusk, and he can barely stand when he's made to.

Yrana actually protests on his behalf, which he didn't actually expect at all, but he's still forced to walk onwards anyway and to be led to the Leader's tent. He can feel Loki's eyes on him as he passes too, just before he finally hears the footfall of the guy following him from behind.

"You are not expected, Asgardian."

"I am here as adviser and overseer." Loki answers bluntly, matching his steps with the Troll now, glancing at the way that Tony's arm is held to make sure he won't run. Not that he really  _can_ at the moment anyway. "I cannot oversee if my charge is not even within my _sight_ , now can I?"

"You will not be allowed within, no matter what you say." Loki only shrugs, like he doesn't even care. Probably doesn't, but it actually makes Tony a little glad of it all the same. At least he won't be watched.

He must have paused at some moment, thinking about what's going to happen now, because his arm's tugged at, painfully, and the wounds over his back split open as he walks. Falling with a cry at that, he immediately feels his tunic begin to spill red, but the Troll only decides to sling him over it's shoulder anyway, as is the usual form of degrading transport around here, which unfortunately only makes it hurt a whole lot more.

He's pretty used to hiding his pain, though, has been all his life and only broke once or twice in Afghanistan, so with a little concentration he should be -

" _Ah_ \- " The Troll literally drops him at the entrance to the Leader's tent, and forces him to his feet when he manages only to kneel and clutch at one of his throbbing arms, "Wait. I can't - " His back aches, his thighs shaking, and he's sure that there's a fresh pool of blood on the floor now, but not one of them cares.

Why can't he be allowed to _heal_ first?

A shove from behind sends a hot bloom of pain over his body and he staggers, automatically grabbing onto the nearest thing for balance, and that happens to be Loki's arm; actually outstretched to catch him anyway - surprisingly. He lets go immediately when he realizes what it is, however, and somehow finds the strength in him to walk into the tent himself afterward. 

Let's get this over with.

Both the Troll and Loki remain outside, and a heavy set of footfalls after a moment shows that the former leaves when it's job is done. Hopefully Loki will soon, too. 

The tent is huge, compared to the others, and could probably comfortably house at least 2 dozen slaves. He gives a start when he's addressed, so unused to being allowed entrance here that he's focused mostly on what he can find out at first glance.

"Mortal," He looks away from the poles quickly. The Leader sits over a plush set of cushions before him, naked in it's ugly glory and relaxed in the sort of smug way that sends all the alarm bells ringing.

Were Tony a believer of mythology, he'd probably say that the cushions are the sort that Achilles might have had in his own tent when they'd fought in Troy, but it's obviously just another spoil over whichever land that they'd conquered today; while Tony had been too busy being unconscious to hear about it.

"Sit."

He blinks. What? Staring at the hand that's gesturing to him, he blinks again, looking down at the pillow that's laid out for him to rest on. "Huh?" He finally asks, eloquently. The Leader only frowns though, gesturing again, and this time he obediently does lower himself down - slowly - holding himself uncomfortably unsure with the softness of the silk and fabric beneath the bare skin of his legs. His wounds prickle in the warmth of the heated coals in the corner, the change in temperature new and strange, but it's actually soothing at least, and the pain eventually dulls as he relaxes his limbs, "Um. Okay. Before you ask - I was hardly in the tent, and I - "

He's interrupted, of course, but - "Have you ever married, mortal?" That is all kinds of unexpected.

Forget the warmth. Tony suddenly grows cold in every single pore over his bruised body, his posture now impossibly rigid, "Pardon me?"

"Married. Bound to another."

"Uh. Yeah, that would be a ' _no_ '." Sucking in a breath, he tries to calm himself down. This isn't what he thinks it is. It can't be. There's no _way_ his situation can get any worse at all, especially not with Loki here as well, now. "Why? I mean - can I ask ... _why_?" Ugh, kill him now with this _meekness_ but God knows it's necessary.

"Good." His question's ignored; they usually are. "Then tomorrow you will choose the best of the slaves that you think are worthy of it. As mortal and the favorite of Asgard's Prince, I find it fitting that it fall to you to announce."

Oh.

Fitting as in = they'll all hate you and think of you as the enemy, kind of fitting.

"I - don't understand." Frowning at him, Tony shifts until he knows he can quickly stand if he needs to, "Marriage isn't anything that you've ever - "

"Do not _question_ me." The Leader leans forward itself now and Tony automatically flinches, "We have been waged for battle with another camp of my kin. You know this?" He nods his answer, not trusting himself to speak and wondering just why he's here exactly, and what the hell is going on. This hadn't been what he'd been expecting, and if he's being honest with himself right now, he'd rather the rape. At least then he can know where he stands and what kind of power-playing game is being revealed. "Asgard may yet fight us for the blood that we have split -"

"Good." He barely blinks when a backhand sends him sprawling, but he's pulled up by his tunic immediately afterward and made to sit like nothing's happened _. That_ makes him pause. This battling shit must really be bugging the Troll then.

Huh.

"We cannot afford a new battle upon us. Our numbers are not great." Nice to know. "Which is why ... I will lose some of our _slaves_ instead of my kin." Tony's face grows hot with an anger he almost can't control. Lose slaves. Transfer them as payment. As an alliance. Making it harder for Thor to fight them if they joined together over their fucking lust and greed, and swapping the best for the best. _No_. "You will choose those that will go."

No he will not. "Why marriage?"

"This other camp. They do not take unless they are bound." Right. It sounds almost noble until you realise that it's really _not_. It means that they'll only want to rape once they know the slave can't go anywhere and can't escape. Marriage around here must be something pretty different then. Jesus.

"I won't do it." Tony stands when the Leader makes a move toward him as soon as he's spoken, but he _still_ has to stop before the air's punched from his lungs with how intense the pain in his back is, just at that one movement. "No way."

"I will kill many of them instead."

No it won't. It'd be such a waste, it wouldn't. "Fuck you." Backing away, Tony glares, clenching his hands into fists, " _You_ choose if you want it so badly, but don't you dare mix any of us into your little games. Get your kicks another way."

His shoulder is seized and he's dragged over cushions until he's bent over the Leader's lap, " _Choose_ , or you will be the first to go. To the cruelest even."

"Fine." Without any hesitation at all, because he _won't_. He's not doing this. He's not participating, not even if he thinks he can help. Hope is all everyone has left, he won't make it seem like he's turned on that. Not a chance, "I don't care. Do what you want with me, but I'm not going against them. Never. It's high time you understand that, asshole."

The Leader's breath washes over him with how close it is, rotten and dank, and he has to tilt his head backward to try and get some air in without choking on it, "Hm. No. I think not, you _are_ quite a _prize._ I do not think I should lose you." Of course not.

"I'm still not doing it."

"Then you shall marry _me_ instead." Oh God. Right. Okay. _That_ \- he'd been expecting. Sort of. He - he should agree, right now, to save as many as he can, to stop this. He should.

"I - " But what if marriages _are_ different here? What if something happens that -

"Answer or I will throw you from here and choose from those that helped you today." Aleya. Yrana. The two food-slaves that had carried him. _Kyle_. "Answer me _now, or - "_

"Fine! Fine, okay, _okay_ , I'll do it. Alright? I'll do it." His chest feels tight as soon as he's said it, and he shuts his eyes, hating himself and hating the Trolls and hating this fucking situation with everything he's got, " ... I'll do it."

Grasping his hand with both of it's, the Leader squeezes it's answer and glances up with a non-verbal signal. Another Troll steps out from the shadows, holding a scroll, and as soon as Tony repeats that he'll 'do it', it glows just the once until a sudden wave of nausea hits him hard enough to send him tumbling with wooziness.

He staggers backward, holding a hand to his head and trying not to retch, and the first thing that he sees when he finally manages to look up is the sick satisfaction on the Leader's face, "Let us see the Prince try to take you _now_."

Oh God.

Tony throws up. All over the cushions but he can't even make himself get happy over that. Not even a little.

A trick. Oh God, _God_. A fucking trick to get him to voluntarily say it, and he _fell_ for it. And now - Oh **_God_. **

"A low trick. Even for a Troll." Oh for fuck's _sake_. Tony turns away quickly when he hears Loki's voice, hiding his face and wiping at his mouth, trying to slip away but his tunic is grasped and held, "I thought your kind thought of marriage as _sacred_."

"With our own kin, it is," The other Troll steps forward again now, the scroll put down and forgotten - unneeded. It's done it's damage, "A slave is naught but a trinket to lay in the bed. Marriage here is to simply bind the souls."

"I take it back." Tony rasps then, before anyone else can speak, "I take it back you fucking, sick-minded _bastards_." His answer is simple: his thighs are gripped tight enough to bruise them even more and the whip lashes over the sides flare as they're squeezed. He shuts his eyes, trying hard not to show much emotion, but when his legs are spread and with him so wounded - both mentally and physically, he can't - " _Please_." It's barely a whisper but they all hear it anyway.

The Leader laughs, but he doesn't press into him. Only stands to let Tony fall back over the only clean part of the cushions. "I will allow you to heal, mortal. Tomorrow we shall have our _treasured_ ceremony." The other Troll laughs now, and like the butt of the joke that he is, Tony only ducks his head and wishes that he wasn't here.

Anywhere, really. Anywhere but here.

"I can't breathe - "

"Take him to the healer," The Leader orders Loki, waving a hand dismissively. But like the Prince that he'd been raised to be, Loki only bristles and stands a little straighter, "You are adviser are you not?"

At that jibe, it says a lot about what kind of 'magical' connection there is between them now, because Loki actually _visibly_ swallows his pride and bends to catch Tony just before he falls. "Adviser, yes. _Not_ babysitter." He lifts Tony into his arms anyhow, and wow, that feels weird. He's been so used to being slung like a sack over something's shoulder, that being cradled feels foreign now. "Thor will not be kept back by a mere marital spell, I should warn you."

"He _will_ be kept back with the knowledge that if _I_ were to die, the mortal's soul will be lost." Tony still can't breathe. It hurts to, and his chest stings. But he hangs onto every word anyway. It's important. "Soulless and bred with only a slave's mind, I imagine that even the mighty _Thor_ will be heartbroken."

A slave's mind. Yes, my lord. No, my lord. How do you want to _fuck me_ , my lord?

Tony keens in Loki's arms at the thought, the pain vibrating all over his body and the shock of just how much worse everything has become stabbing into him; he turns his face to hide in the shirt before him, squeezing his stinging eyes shut.

_Take me out of here. Please just - I don't give a shit who you are right now, just take me away._

"I can't - I can't _breathe_ \- " Glancing down at him, Loki scowls, but turns dutifully, carrying him from the tent. He feels limp in his arms, useless. Like a baby. A newly _married_ baby, abused and tricked and forced into a corner that it can't get out of, no matter how much it tries - with so many people depending on it to get _them_ out as well.

God, he can't do this. He can't even save himself, how can he - 

"If you manage to get yourself killed, Stark," Don't talk to me. Please. "I _swear_ I will do unspeakable things to your body until I am eventually killed as well."

Ha. "Bet you - ten bucks that it won't be anything - that's not happened to it - _already_."

He paused then, before turning. "I suppose not." Dropping him down onto the bed that he'd been in before when they arrive, he steps backward to let Yrana continue trying to heal him. "Thor will still come."

It's probably meant as a comfort, for whatever weird reason that Loki has to even try, but all Tony can think of is how bad everything will turn out to be if Thor _does_. He won't be saved, that much he knows already. After everything, _this_ is where he's going to die.

Either his body or his mind - some part of him will get lost here.

He tries to accept that as Yrana presses salve into his cuts. Tries too hard, maybe, because he's sobbing before he can even stop himself. In front of two of the very people that he would never have wanted to in all his life. But he keeps going anyway.

A hand soothes his hair back, and Yrana murmurs something soft in his ear. He falls asleep immediately, his mind muggy with nothing but memories of the day, and he wonders. Will this be what it's like when Thor kills the Leader?

Because he will. Of course he will.

Because the only person who _can_ stop him won't even care. After all, soulless isn't the same as dead, so Loki will likely still live anyway.

He has nightmares. 

Kyle being trampled during another brawl that he isn't fast enough to get of yet, Aleya executed after being married off and screaming that she did not want to. This is what it's going to be like. He has to get used to it eventually.

~

 

Loki isn't there when he wakes up, the next morning, thankfully, and he spends half of it crying again. Stopping and muttering to himself to stop, before remembering why he is all over again, and crying anew.

Maybe he's finally broken. 

.


	8. Chapter 8

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* * *

.

He feels depressingly numb for most of the day afterward, barely reacting when he's pushed around, ordered or fucked into.

Everything washes over him in waves of trauma and he avoids Loki like the plague. Aleya stays by his side whenever she can but with her duties and with the lunch hours, it's hard for her and he doesn't want to be the kind of person that will do anything for comfort; even getting her into serious trouble.

So he sits alone, inside an empty tent, huddled in the corner and staring down at his feet like they were to blame for this all. He doesn't cry again, he point-blank refuses to, but his eyes still prick whenever he thinks about all that's happening and when he realizes how trapped he really is now.

He should have just gone with Thor, God, he's so fucking _stupid_.

Holding his knees tighter, he snaps his head up with a glare at how pathetic he's being, how _selfish_ even as well. Yes, he's going through some pain and yes he's being used and abused and thrown aside like nothing more than a toy on a regular basis, but he's not the only one here. And they're all looking to him to help them.

Wallowing isn't going to do much if that's what they want, and it's not exactly going to help him figure out a plan for getting them all out of here.

Before though, thinking on it now again, there has always been the issue of there having to be a group staying behind until everyone else has gone, before following them - but there's too big a risk with that, because those that stayed may _not_ make it out. And he wants them all.

All or nothing, like he'd said before, and he _means_ it.

But now. What with Loki being here and with him so able with the 'magic-y' stuff, maybe they could pull it off. If being here is a punishment for him, then obviously that'll mean that he doesn't _want_ to be here either, so it's possible that he could be talked into helping. He'll have to be careful though, subtle and without the risk of him telling the Trolls and ruining it all before it's even begun. So basically, Tony's going to have to try and _trust_ him first.

Which ... is impossible. Ugh, he needs a new plan. 

As he sits there, however, other slaves start to come inside, being forced in while the Trolls 'meet' or whatever it is they do. The other band is supposed to be coming later on today, so preparations are to be made, and blah blah _blah._ Tony's personally just trying to stay out of their way, but Aleya, Rose, Kyle and the others that are no for pleasure are all stuck with their jobs and have no way out of it.

He's also just glad that it's doubtless any of them will get hurt today too. Hopefully.

It starts to get a little too crowded so he leaves eventually, heading out to see others rushing around to tents or to serve Trolls. Loki is with the Leader, talking with him, and he looks incredibly frustrated whilst the Leader's actually pretty smug in contrast. Things don't seem to be going his way, then. Huh. Good.

A Troll passes him from behind as he walks, stepping around him fast enough to almost knock him off of balance, and he slams into another slave walking past; shoved back when he accidentally steps on their bare feet, "Hey!" The mud's cool when he lands in it, soaking his tunic into a dirty brown as he knocks his head down hard enough to make him dizzy for a few seconds, "Muh - " Coughing, he wipes muck from his eyes and face, shaking it off of his skin and shivering, glancing up at the same Troll that now stands over him with a frown. Like a mother to an errant child. 

"Clean him," Another Troll, obviously much higher up, orders it as it looks through the tent to see what had happened, "The _Uyrilk_ will not use an unclean slave." Tony blinks, staring at it at that, because - Wait. The _other_ band will be using them _too_? But what about the whole marriage thing and the freaking trick from last night, is that _all_ a lie or is this still going to happen; meaning he was _bonded_ for nothing.

"But - " He starts, trying to push himself up without much success, "But _I_ thought - "

He's lifted by the arm like a ragdoll, dumped over the ground before the back of his neck is then gripped as well and used to lead him along toward the waterfall path. He stumbles violently, wincing with a grunt, and the mud slides down his bare legs with possibly the most uncomfortable feeling that he has ever received whilst walking. It's sticky, both hot and cold now, thick and it _stinks_.

"You look lovely." Loki comments as he's pushed on by, before standing to follow him as well, sighing in annoyance like he _has_ to. Right. Of course. 'Keeping an eye on him'. "Something happen, did it?" Tony doesn't bother answering him, mostly because it's _obvious you asshole_ , but also because he's not really in the mood for talking at all right now. The Troll only ignores Loki being there too, so maybe it's good that Tony responds the same way, but he's more focused on the fact that he's going to go back to the waterfall twice in one week.

He really needs to relax, so maybe this will help. He'd like to feel clean again. 

They make it there a lot faster than usual, but that's probably only because the Troll quite literally lifts Tony off his feet with his neck to match his speed of walking instead. Let go by the end, Tony immediately takes a step toward the waterfall, his neck released to let him drop finally, but his feet skim and slip over the wet stone just as he tries to catch himself from falling and he slides down it painfully. Mud tracks down the slab of rock, and he turns quickly to reach up and climb back up to the top but -

"Lift him." The Troll orders Loki bluntly, who's actually _inspecting_ his nails as though that's more important. At the command however, he looks up, his expression now impressively cold.

"Excuse me?"

"Lift. Him." It's repeated like it's nothing, and Tony rolls his eyes at the look of hatred on Loki's face, heaving himself up instead.

He almost makes it too, before the rock decides to crack beneath him, too thin for anything more than a quick walk really, which means that half of it falls away, " _Ah_ \- !" He has no luck, with anything, he really doesn't. God. "Shi - !" He ends up dangling over the edge, holding on tight with both hands that are quickly numbing and his heart pounding in his throat. Oh God, Oh _God_ \- ! "Fuck - "

Loki wildly jerks then, _weirdly_ so, almost like he's been pulled, and he glares darkly at the Troll before moving to pull Tony up anyway; easily so, by just the wrist. "Watch your step, Stark."

Prick.

Breathing in slowly to calm himself down, Tony gives him a dark look from the corner of his eye, straightening and pushing his hair from his face. The Troll pushes him again, toward the waterfall and he grabs onto Loki to stop himself from falling a second time, heading over himself when he's sure that he won't slip. The tunic is utterly ruined by now, there can't be any way of fixing it after all it's been through, but he still washes it in the water first; hoping that he can at least wear it on the way back and try and find something better afterward.

The mud was mostly over it all anyway, so his hands, hair and face are all that need a proper washing afterward until he's completely mud free, and he even ends up feeling a little peaceful too. Sighing, he pushes his wet hair back and shakes the water from his ears, opening his eyes slowly to look up at the sun before _slamming_ backward into the rock with a start when he sees the Troll standing there instead.

"Jesus! I - um. I'm done. I'm coming." His tunic is lifted instead of him, though, and quite suddenly just torn apart, cleanly with the one yank. "What - ?"

"Come." His arm is grabbed and he's pulled, completely naked now - the final humiliation - but utterly _fed up_ of being shoved lower and _lower_ , Tony rips it back with a snarl.

" _No_." Anger tunnels through him like lightning strikes, beating into his heart, and he slaps the hand that reaches for him again; hitting it back and not even _caring._ " _Make_ me."

"Very well." Reaching over to haul him onto it's shoulder, like they always do, the Troll actually rears back with a growl after Tony grabs the nearest rock and crushes it down onto it's fingers; leaving a dark smear of blood that's washed away straight after, " _You_ little - !"

He dodges the blow that inevitably comes afterward, ducking and spitting out, "Hurt me _hard_ enough and Asgard'll come fucking _down_ on you, remember!" There's a pause then, and he knows that the Troll is probably thinking of the healers. But then it would have to explain what had happened to the Leader too, and most of them don't ever want to seem weak in front of it. So if Tony had gotten the better of it, even for just a _moment_ , then - well. Not a good image to have, "I get _clothes_ , or you kill me. But I'm not moving until either one happens."

"You will do as _told_."

" _No_. I _won't_."

His throat is gripped, predictably, and used to press him higher into the water, choking him in both ways, but he doesn't back his glare down at all. This is it. This is the message that he can make, to see if it's possible to make a stand or not, to see what'll happen if he takes it this far and if -

Something warm tugs at his skin, material suddenly appearing in streams over it, still red and in the exact shape that it always is, except now completely brand new and _perfectly_ clean. The Troll drops him in surprise, and he quickly moves out of the water, looking down at himself, then up at Loki, because of _course_ it's him doing this. Who else would it be.

Lowering his hands now that the tunic is finished, Loki doesn't even say a word, only nods at him once, and turns to walk back up the slope. "I - "

Tony is pulled along afterward as well now, his 'stand' effective-less without his nakedness to feed the anger, but he still stays stonily silent the entire way back; finally let go when the camp is in sight and made to walk alongside Loki instead. And then, only then, does he finally snap the question that he knows he should ask.

"Why the _hell_ did you do that?"

Loki sighs again, looking at him, "Had you gotten yourself killed, Stark, _I_ would have died as well. Remember."

 _God_ , _that_ \- !

Tony punches him, hard, glad to see an actual _genuine_ look of surprise and pain flash over the guy's face before quickly leaving him behind and practically running away before Loki can do anything back. Except probably a lot harder.

He isn't followed, and thankfully is able to get into the food tent without anything else happening, but Aleya isn't there. Neither is Jesse, nor anyone else that he'd really like to speak to right now and he'd much prefer to stay out of the healer's tent for as long as possible right now, so seeing Yrana is out too. Not that he'd want to anyway, with her.

He just needs to talk to _someone_ right now, before the other band arrives because then he'll never be free, and he'll -

"So _this_ is Thor's comrade?" A foot blocks his way, the Leader standing there with another Troll - darker in color, but too similar to be anything but the same species."Smaller than I had imagined."

_Too late._

 

**_~_ **

* * *

**_~_ **

****

The Uyrlik band isn't any larger than the one that Tony had been captured by, and the only difference between them is really the skin tone.

And the excessive jewelry worn by their slaves; bound only to one Troll for life and used by it always. The Leader has Tony don gold all over his neck and wrists as a response, and he's made to sit in it's lap the entire time that they converse. Which is good, in a way, because it means he can listen in and see what's going on and from what it seems, neither of them are planning on giving up their slaves.

They're here to mutually agree to an alliance. Which is also good.

Most of the food slaves are ones that he doesn't recognize, which is a mercy too, because he knows what sort of picture he makes right now and he'd rather no one he knows sees him this way. As soon as he thinks that, however, Loki appears in the corner of the camp. Fucking hell, the idiot's _everywhere_.

"You chose quite a _prize_ for your bond, Aulkret," The Uyrlik's leader actually purrs, skimming a thick hand down Tony's bare arm, "You do not expect Asgard's Prince to _forget_ this, do you."

"Thor will do nothing," The Leader, _Aulkret_ is his name?, says, the arm around Tony's waist tightening. He sits still over it, his face blank and his body limp, "He will not risk his comrade's death." They really don't know Thor's anger then. Risk doesn't even fit into it at all, when all he sees is the red and his hammer. "But if Asgard strikes, I have your word you will act with us?"

"Hand me _that #$%#€¢_ traitor in your midst, and we will stand behind you. I swear it." Traitor? "But first. Let us have a show. _Girl!_ " Tony jumps at the sudden shout and clap, and watches as a young woman - sat just beside him - stands; her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Of all of them, she has the most jewelry over her and yet has the least to wear atop of that, exposed and shown to all of them to appreciate. From the way she holds herself, however, Tony can tell that she had once been proud - respected and noble.

Now look at her.

He shuts his eyes, not wanting to be one of the eyes that stare over her naked skin.

A Troll from the other band ties her down over a large plank of wood that they had brought, and she's lain on her side afterward, her arms bound behind her back and her legs curled into a comma-like shape. It looks incredibly uncomfortable and she whimpers as she's left there. In fact, Tony's so busy feeling sorry for _her_ that he doesn't even feel the hands gripping both of wrists until it lifts him off of Aulkret and onto the plank as well.

"He - !" Backhanded to keep quiet, he falls, landing just by the woman's thighs and as he's kept down there, his arms and legs are bound similarly. Oh God. She must be the other leader's wife then. Which means that they're the show.

No wonder they've all be drooling this entire time.

The Trolls that are given the privilege to sit at the meeting, six in total, jeer their excitement and Tony is twisted around, his face pressed between the woman's legs and hers pressed the same for him. And it's just as his ass is given a hard _slap_ that it clicks with what they want them to do.

Together.

"Oh God," Whispering probably tickles her, judging from the way she twitches away from his lips, but he continues anyway, knowing that she can hear him, "God, I'm so sorry."

 _She's_ hit this time, harder than he had been, and immediately takes him into her mouth without even a cry of protest. She's used to this then. Tony flinches in response, squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation over his cock that he had once thoroughly enjoyed. Now he feels utterly _disgusting_.

The Trolls continue to jeer, laughing at his involuntarily squirming as she continues to arouse him so easily, and his thighs bloom red when he doesn't do his part just yet, either. Opening his mouth feels like the hardest thing that he's ever had to do, and he keeps his eyes shut, going by touch alone and tentatively licking his tongue out into the folds of her skin.

His face has been pressed entirely in, and she subconsciously thrusts her hips toward him when he starts. He's good at this, he remembers. He can do this _so_ well that it blows women's minds. He just has to pretend that this is a one-night-stand, a regular night in bed, a night without any of the stomping, roaring or crying of the girl that he's having to eat out.

She gags when Tony's ass is pressed on from behind, and he tries hard to force it back, to let her breathe. Desperately then, he thinks of every single thing that would turn him off in an instant, needing himself to be soft _right now_. Her tongue skims over him and he keens, biting his lip before continuing to lick her again in case he's slapped in punishment. Slowly, memories, bad memories - Howard, Stane, his bullying Chemistry teacher, the Trolls, _Loki_ \- they all seep into his mind and erase any of the arousal that's brimming into him, forcing it out and eventually he actually manages to stop himself from getting hard.

He cries out then, overly dramatic, thrusting a little into her mouth with a cock that shouldn't make her gag now, and she pauses; swallowing around him to disguise her confusion from those watching. One more cry, and like the pro he used to be, he pretends to come in her mouth. Letting it all be over sooner, than later.

She barely waits a second then before moaning, loudly, around him, rolling her hips before letting her moans get breathier and breathier, before she finally pretends as well. Pretty well too. Perfect. He'd hoped that she'd catch on before any of the Trolls decided that they should force him into another.

Against his cock, slipping it out of her mouth, she murmurs with an obviously raw throat, "Thank you."

" ... no problem." Tony pants, trying to shift backward enough to look down at her, but he's suddenly spun around by the hips instead and slammed onto his stomach, with his thighs digging into the edge of the plank; held still while the same is done to her opposite him. Their hands are untied, their legs still bound together, and the Trolls holding them down thrust inside before Tony can even suck in a breath to recover. " _Ah - "_

Face-to-face, his head bumps with hers as they're both fucked into together, forced to stare at each other. Her neck has a tattoo over it, he notices, pressing his lips together and flushing to try and hide how much this hurts - both emotionally and physically.

It's drawn in the shape of a choker necklace, her name he assumes, curled around it. Ayana.

Her tears fall now, sliding down her face in twin lines, and she doesn't hide it at all, knowing no one here is going to judge her for it. Sliding a hand over the wood of the plank, Tony reaches across and gently holds her hand in his. She glances up, hiccuping slightly, and her head bobs with the force of the thrusts from behind. But still, she smiles at that, and squeezes his back.

It's almost an hour after that that every other Troll has had it's turn too, and they're both left lying together, almost unconscious and covered in their muck. When night begins to fall, however, both the Leaders pull them apart and take them to their separate tents to sleep.

Tony lies awake all night, however, listening and cringing at the cries of other slaves around the camp, and hoping that they can all find the time - at least a few of them - to hold each other's hand.

Because it really helps.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's going to ask for Loki's help tomorrow :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! I was demotivated and busy :(

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* * *

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The minute Aulkret’s arm slips off of him, he stumbles to his feet and leaves the tent.

It’s morning, and most of the slaves are already typically up, with a few guards littered around the camp in spatters. He’s limping, he knows, but that doesn’t stop him from walking as fast as he can to the opposite tent, barely flinching when he passes by the plank that he’d been tied to the night before. Ayana, he's sure that was her name, is sitting with her back to a pole, clasping and unclasping a golden bracelet around her wrist and staring into space.

She starts when he sits beside her suddenly, her eyes widening in the only show of fear she's allowing herself to give away right now, and the bracelet falls off of her wrist to land with a clunk over the rocks by her legs, "Sorry," He picks it up for her, "I just - wanted to see if you were okay or not." Taking it back, warily, she narrows her eyes.

"You're in the same position as me, _pleasure_ slave. I don't need you to get into trouble just for my sake." He raises an eyebrow and she immediately shifts to the side, putting her legs closer together, "It won't make me owe you anything." _Oh_. He jerks back himself then, more than a little aware of what she thought now, thanks to Dave.

"No. That's really not what I was - no. I'm - uh." He sighs, looking up at the sky instead, before bluntly saying, "Iwasbeingrapedoppositeyoulastnight, and I came to see if you were okay. Because I'm kinda not, so ... yeah." She shifts again, "I'm not looking for anything. Really."

Looking at her again now, her entire expression has changed from skeptical to stricken, and she glances down to her bracelet with a flinch, "Sorry." She whispers eventually. "It was - dark. I didn't recognise you."

"Yeah, I figured."  Her eyes shimmer again as she bites her lip, white marks from fluoride stains over her teeth, "But I know why you'd be so suspicious. Trust me."

Glancing at him once, her fingers stray from her bracelet to fiddle with the one circling her ankle instead, "You've got some assholes in your camp as well then?"

It's said lightly enough to make him smile, however small, "Only the one that I know of so far." She scoffs slightly, giving him a smile, "I'm guessing you've got way more.”

Stretching, she nods, "You know, I used to pride myself on being attractive. Now it's literally the biggest curse that I've got." Her accent finally clicks as he listens to her and he realises that she must have been British. Once. "Thank you, by the way. Honestly, it never occurred to me to seek you out and - make sure."

He nods slowly, looking past her to check that the other camp's leader doesn't emerge while they talk, "Yeah, well. _Honestly_ , I'm here for two reasons too. One; to see that you're okay. And two; I - kinda need your help."

She frowns now, letting her anklet go to grip her hands together instead, "I don't kill. And even if I did, I can't just - "

"Woah, woah. Hold on a second, okay. Stop jumping to conclusions." She glares at him now and he winces, but doesn't stop, "I don't mean that. _Really_ don't mean that." Giving him a cool look now, she gestures he continue, "I'm just - look." He lowers his voice, leaning closer, "I made a promise to a group of slaves in the camp that I'd get them out. All of them, every single slave." She opens her mouth, dimples formed in the corners as she expresses her disbelief, but he stops her before she can interrupt, "I know. I know, it seems impossible, and improbable, and everything else, but I'm their only chance. Now I didn't know that there was another camp, and more slaves to save, but I don't know if I can help you like I'm trying to help them."

She sits back on her heels. "I've been a slave for five years now. We've all got our own coping methods."

"I didn't mean I'm just going to _leave_ you here. Just that - you're gonna have to wait a little longer." She still looks incredibly skeptical but he doesn't bother trying to convince her. He isn't even entirely sure what he's going to do, himself, he hasn't got any semblance of a plan for them yet, at all, "Look, the only reason I'm telling you this is because holding your hand last night made me realise that we're all suffering alone in this. Or - at least, we all _think_ we are. And I'm telling you now that I  _will_ get you out of here, a rescue _will_ come, and you're not alone. Okay?" Her dimples disappear when her face softens. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

"What did you want my help with?”

Oh yeah. He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair when he remembers that he's been lying down all night, and untangling the locks that have bunched together by his forehead, "I need information." She makes a face. "You've spent more time with your leader than I have with mine. I need to know if you've heard anything, if you know anything about them that could hurt them or, even, kill them."

Her hands tap around the tattoo over her neck as she thinks, "I'll let you know. We'll be here for another day or so, but -”

"No. If you know anything at all, then please let me know now. I may not be able to talk to you later on and they change their minds at the drop of a hat."

"I - " She bites her lip again, chewing on the skin until it bleeds, "I don't really know what could help."

"Doesn't matter." He assures her. "Just something. Anything."

She releases her lip, looking around the tent herself now to make sure they're really alone, "They, uh, they eat a lot? I've seem them literally cut meetings short because of food." He knows that already, but okay. She must notice something telling her that on his face, though, because she then adds, "I'm sorry. They don't really discuss anything important around me, and I'm barely conscious when they do talk anyway, to be completely honest." He lowers his eyes, " _Sorry._ "

"No, no, it's fine. I - I get it."

She really does look sorry and he immediately feels guilty for even asking. But then she suddenly snaps her fingers, "Hey, wait! I do know that one Leader can challenge another, if they're strong enough. They gain their bonded slave if they win, too."

Oh. Huh. Well, it's something at least. "That what happen to you?" She nods, "What was the old one like?" Her eyebrows raise. "Got it." The sound of boots approaching make the both of them look up as one and Loki turns the corner the next second, "Oh _great._ ”

He's met with a smug smile, "Need I remind you that I 'must keep an eye on you'?" Standing sends stings of pain down his legs when that same muck from last night sticks to his thighs and pulls at the skin, and he knows that he won't be able to out-walk Loki at this rate, but he can at least he try and spare Ayana from whatever taunt she's likely to get. Loki had been there last night, after all, he'd seen everything.

"Thanks for your help." He murmurs down to her quickly, turning his back when she quickly smiles in reply, letting it fall immediately as though it's far too much effort to keep it up. Loki follows him away, as usual.

"Was I interrupting something?" Tony doesn't answer, "You really ought to not get so attached to every crying creature in this place." Like he's going to take advice from a lying, self-centred - "You cannot save them all."

Tony almost freezes entirely, but that would be far too telling. His stomach does give him a slight swooping sensation, however, but Loki can't see that so he doesn't panic just yet, "Who said anything about saving anyone." He snaps, instead of what he really wants to say. 

“Your entire demeanour did."  Shit. Tony doesn't give him anymore ammo, but his silence is obviously still telling because Loki chuckles, "Mortals."

"Caring about other people being hurt isn't exactly some god awful crime." He stops walking then, turning to face Loki fully, "Everyone in this camp, that's not a Troll, has my sympathy and my help, if I can give it to them." He shrugs, spreading his arms, "Mock that all you want. _Here_ , and _now_ , I don't care what you think or what you say, all I care about is them." His arms drop, "So go ahead and laugh and _whine_ , but you're stuck here just like us. You're no better than the common slave, Loki."

Loki only looks at him, still smiling, and when Tony doesn't continue to walk, he steps forward himself; leaning closer to whisper in his ear, "That - will be used against you. Which is _what_ the true mockery is." He hits their shoulders together as he barges past, but Tony speaks before he's put any real space between them.

"Sorry. Guess I found more mockery in the fact that your punishment is to play mortal-sitter in a camp full of Trolls. And that, no matter how much you want to, you can't kill me without killing yourself." Despite the fact that he's supposed to be following him, Loki continues to walk away, having paused for only a second after Tony's words.

And not for the first time, Tony's glad that he's managed to piss the guy off.

 

.

 

* * *

.

 

Jesse drops the sponge-like thing he's holding in surprise when Tony taps him on the shoulder, angrily stating that he should get some warning next time, before relaxing and apologising straight after.

"It's fine." Tony waves it off, concerned more than anything at how frazzled the other guy looks, "What happened?" Shaking water from his hair, Jesse only shrugs.

"The same old damn thing, is what." There's a strange mark on his elbow, and he presents it in the light of the sun when he notices Tony staring, "They burnt me, and then spat on it."

Tony chews on the inside of his lips, "Because, what? You dropped something?"

"I woke up late. Had a nightmare, then couldn't sleep for ages afterward." His tone heavily implies that he'd rather not go into detail so Tony doesn't pry, but the mark actually makes him feel pretty sick, "We were going to have another meeting tonight, but with the other camp, it just isn't possible. Do you know when they're leaving?"

"Tommorow." Jesse looks at him, as though he hadn't actually expected an answer, "Hopefully."

"Right." He turns back to whatever it is he's washing, "That's not too long, then. Good." His fingers are bright red and rubbed raw, "You might want to leave now. The Troll I tend to might come back any second and if he sees a pleasure slave - "

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezes, and leaves.

He's actually more than a little surprised that he hasn't been grabbed at all so far, half of the day has gone now since he left Ayana and Loki, and more of the Trolls are up and about. Then, having thought that, he cringes at the fact that he's just jinxed himself and just hopes that his luck lives out for longer.

He still needs to recover from last night.

Sitting over a rock by the food-tent, hidden in shadows, he lifts his left leg up over his knee and picks at the semen that's now clumped and fully-stuck to his thighs. It comes off in flakes, reminding him of how every kid had used to pick dry Elmers glue off of their skin in preschool.

His dad's words filter into his mind then, for some ridiculous reason, ' _drinking is what makes a man, a man. When a kid finally rips off his band-aid, sucks it up, and has some gin, he's grown up all he needs to.'_

Jesus. He shakes that out of his head, swapping legs to start trying to clean the other, picking as his arms as well and trying not to think about the blood and come that's over his lower back and ass as well. Two Trolls pass him by then, not noticing him where he's tucked away, but they're from the other camp anyway so it probably wouldn't have mattered if they had seen him.

More of them are sat around the main campfire, near the same whipping stand that he'd saved Aleya from, almost two and a half weeks ago now. He watches as they talk, comparing them to the Trolls that he's used to seeing more, and he notices how less mindlessly-aggressive they seem. More honor-bound, Thor would probably call it. Which reminds him -

Thor had said he'd be back by the next full moon. He has around another week and a bit left. At least, he thinks. Time may or may not work differently here, he hasn't exactly had time to go moon-gazing, and he can't even remember if it _had_ been a full-moon when Thor had been here or not, or even if it's been two weeks since.

He sighs, rubbing his fingers together and standing again, thankful for just a second for the _'whatever-the-hell-they-did-to-his-body'_ that keeps him from actually becoming permanently damaged by their lust; not for the first time either. It's one of the only things he's glad for in this situation, and it hadn't even been done to him out of consideration either.

As one, the Trolls around the campfire shift when the food-slaves begin to bring in their meals and Tony's own stomach grumbles in perfect synchronisation with that single movement. He honestly can't remember the last time that he'd eaten something actually. Good thing he's right by the food-tent.

Slipping inside, he immediately makes his way over to the furthest corner, as he usually does, and grabs some bread - and a teeny bit of meat that probably isn't for him anyway. He feels bad almost straight away, because some poor slave is going to get the stick for that if their Troll notices some missing, but he finds some extra stocked away anyway and adds to the pile. He also eats some more himself, because protein is definitely missing from his diet, he barely gets any anymore.

He swallows too fast, however, and is left with a slight lodge in his throat that won't go away no matter how many times he swallows, making him cough against a fist until eventually, it subsides. And this is why you should _chew_ first.

It's as he looks around for some water that he finally puts some thought into what Ayana had told him this morning. While he already knows that eating is important to the Trolls, it's worth putting some more research into that. For all he knows, there could be something there to use, and he doesn't exactly have a lot to go on as it is, so opening his mind a little won't hurt. Challenging the Leader, though, doesn't seem to be something that he _can_ use at all, because even if some other Troll _does_ , how does that help them?

He could always try and manipulate the least aggressive of them and then try and sneak them out under it's rule instead, but Aulkret is incredibly strong and increasingly ruthless. This other Troll has to _beat_ him. And from what he's seen of how they all behave around him, with that _fear_ , he doesn't grasp at any candidates so far.

He finds the water eventually, drinking it in small sips to stop from choking himself and relishing in the relief that it gives him from his thirst. He's always dry-mouthed after a night like that, but he usually only gets one after trying to escape. Last night had just been a show, which just drives a burst of bitterness into him, and makes him spill some of the water down his tunic.

It's no longer covered with Aleya's blood, thanks to Loki, and yet already has stains from his life here. He picks at the material, hugging himself round the torso as he finally leaves the tent. Aulkret is out now as well, sitting in the midst of the main group, next to Ayana's Troll. She's sat on the floor before it, herself, which is when he asks himself over whether he's meant to be there too, or not, and - as he's _not_ \- if he'd be in trouble for that.

His question is answered when Aulkret catches his eye from all that way across, through the gaps in the tents, and glares. Right. His feet move on their own accord, and he vaguely wonders if that's because of their marriage bond or because he knows better now.

There's a gap between two of them that he uses to slip his way into the centre, and he sits beside Ayana, his back to Aulkret; barely skimming his knee with his shoulder. The gold had been taken off of him last night, and though Ayana still has some on, there's no move to give more to Tony as well - which he's glad for. There are more slaves around now, than there had been before, and he'd rather none of them see him like that.

They share a solemn glance as the Trolls eat around them before Ayana tilts her head backward at a tap from her Leader, her face utterly blank, to be fed some of it's food. Tony looks away with a jerk, hunching his shoulders, and feeling sick at the show. _Pet_ springs to mind, and he swallows his bile down. 

Aulkret doesn't even try, thank God, but every shift from behind him still makes Tony stiffen all the more over the ground. Rocks dig into his bare legs as he just sits there, Ayana's hair pulled out of it's bun with a yank when she automatically reaches for the food instead of letting it be placed on her tongue, and saliva hits the his cheek when one of the Trolls nearest him laughs with food still in it's mouth.

He pulls his knees up before shoving them back down when he remembers that there are Trolls in front of him and he isn't allowed underwear. Sitting cross-legged doesn't do much either, though, so he tucks his legs beneath him instead and kneels. A much more humiliating position but he at least feels better with regards to exposing himself.

Instead of wallowing then, as he realises he kinda has been, he tries to focus a little more on the other Trolls sitting around Aulkret. This is the main posse, so they must be strong. One of them has to at least be: One; not afraid of their Leader. And Two; Strong and fierce enough to be able to take it _down_.

Most of them are laughing right now, eating their meat, and shoving slaves left and right with no regard for their well-being at all. He doesn't particularly want to side with either of them but -

" ** _Ah -_ **!"

A shout from near the whipping stand draws his attention like a fish to bait, and he straightens immediately, his eyes snapping toward it. There's another, louder, and the sound of _fists_ alongside a whip echoes around the area. It's a man, he can hear that much, but the sound of the Troll dealing the punishment drowns everything else out that he can't tell if he knows them or not. He also finds that he doesn't _care_ if he does or not.

Standing abruptly, he causes the Trolls at the campfire to stop their laughing and stare at him. Aulkret yanks him back, but at another echo of fist-on-flesh, he surges himself forward out of that grip and runs toward the stand. One of the other Trolls tries to grab at his ankles but it misses by pure luck and growls as he passes over it. The balls of his feet burn as he runs barefooted over rock but he doesn't let that stop him. 

Slaves have crowded, as they usually do for something like this, and he has to push his way through to get to the front to see what's going on and if he can help whoever it is that's being punished today.

Aleya's at the start of the crowd, a hand to her mouth, and when she sees him she all but kicks someone out of the way to let him through, whispering urgently into his ear, "He tried to order them to do something, I think." Tony follows her gaze, his lips parted, "I don't know what, but - they hate it a lot more than _our_ Trolls do."

"Oh God." He stands there, having reached the front, but frozen instead of anything useful because -

Loki. It's _Loki_.

Loki, who's on his knees, obviously having given as good as he's got in this fight. And from what Tony can see in just one glance, his jaw is broken, both of his legs bleeding viciously. He's trying to get to his feet, weakly, having lost - a _lot_ of blood that's now splattered around him - but a twisted ankle stops him from being able to stand straight enough and he falls to one knee again; biting back a cry.

The two Trolls before him roll their shoulders in wait, the two that Tony had seen passing him by before when he'd been cleaning himself, and one of them raises it's whip, bringing it down onto Loki's unprotected back until he falls face down over the ground.

Aleya winces beside him, while Tony just - stands there. He isn't actually sure how to react to this. Loki's been acting as entitled as he pleases since he got here, he hadn't actually thought any of the Trolls would get so violent with him. And, apparently, neither had the God himself.

He still gets up again, though, wiping blood from his face but it just sticks to his hair anyway and obscures his vision, stopping him from being able to block the next punch that's dealt out, and it sends him spinning through the air until he hits the whipping stand; actually collapsing to the ground a second time. He twitches, clenching his hands into fists, raising his head to glare with red-stained teeth clenching back his pain. Jesus, how is he still alive. He's stubborn, Tony'll give him that. 

"I would _squash_ you, Asgardian." The Troll with the whip threatens, "And I would have your corpse clean the blood from my boots." Loki tenses, readying himself for the next blow. The Troll raises the whip - killing blow, it's gotta be - and Tony -

Tony reacts like he does with everything. Without thinking.

He pushes Aleya to the side and runs out into the centre of the crowd, skidding to a halt over the rocks when he finally reaches Loki and throwing his arms out wide to stop the whip in it's tracks. " _No!_ "

The tail of the whip trails over the ground when the Troll lowers it's arm, clearly recognising Tony as one of two things. Companion of Thor, and bonded to other camp's Leader. Whichever one it is, it stops it at least.

"Move _aside,_ mortal."

Loki pants behind him, not saying a word, and it's that that makes Tony stay. Because whatever he's been through, Loki's a jackass who's _always_ got something to say, so - "Maybe you didn't hear me before. _No_." He's loomed over when the Troll steps closer, possibly about to forcibly move Tony itself, "Touch me, and I'll be sure to point you out to Thor the next time he comes for a visit. The next, Oh I don't know, full moon?" The other Troll growls under it's breath, "Yours too, seeing as you want it so badly."

The whip's raised again anyway and Tony braces, squeezing his eyes shut, but the slaves suddenly scatter before anything can happen, and that's all the warning that Tony needs before seeing Aulkret and the rest of the group approach the area. The other Leader glares at the scene, "What is this?"

Tony almost freezes. Almost. But it's too good an opportunity, "This is your Trolls attacking slaves that aren't theirs. I thought you had an alliance?" Aulkret glances at the other, immediately starting the predictable growl-a-thon, and the two Trolls that had done the attacking back away from Tony now, looking to their own Leader for guidance.

"What. Is this?" It just asks again.

"The Asgardian thought to order us. We were simply teaching it the merits of death." Tony looks over his shoulder at Loki, noticing that he has actually now fainted, and the blood pooling around him isn't getting any smaller either. "The mortal interfered."

Tony meets Aulkret's eyes then, letting him know through his gaze alone that if he lets the other Trolls kill anyone today, their alliance could go to hell. All he has to do is say a few choice lies and boom. Full-out brawl.

Luckily, the Troll isn't as dumb as he looks.

"The Asgardian was sent by the Thunderer." It explains, "To kill it would ensure War." The one with the whip snarls at Loki's unconscious body. "Come. Let us finish our meal. This is not worthy of our short time together, as one band united." The words do the trick, surprisingly, and the whip is dropped. The Trolls leave, one of them attempting to kick Tony anyway as it goes, but deciding against it the last second and just spitting to the floor by his feet instead.

And then the area's empty.

"Oh ... _wow_." Talk about high blood-pressure. Tony puts a hand to his head as he tries to calm down before spinning on his heel to look down at Loki. He's dying, that much he can see, and while he'd just saved him at risk of himself, he actually also wants to just leave him here now despite all of that. The bastard has it coming to him, sure, but -

But he can't bring himself do it.

With a groan of frustration, he bends to his knees and tries to haul Loki up by the biceps. Unfortunately, he's a lot heavier than he looks, and much taller than Tony too, which doesn't help. "Oh for - " He grunts, tugging, "Come _on_."

A minute later, though, Aleya's back - she gives him a questioning look at first - but helps anyway, and between them they manage to half-carry, half-drag Loki to the healing tent.

"Yrana - " Tony gasps, dumping Loki on a spare bed. She's eating, barely reacting to their appearance, "Yrana? _Hello_ _?_ Dying patient here!" She slowly puts her bowl down, standing with a sigh and coming over to the bed.

"He is not a slave. I do not have to heal him." Tony just stares at her in utter disbelief, until she just sighs again and pushes him out the way, starting her work despite her words, "This is the only time I will heal this man."

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Just stop him dying, I'm pretty sure he can do the rest." Aleya takes him by the hand to give Yrana some space then, and just like that, the adrenaline in him starts to fizzle out slowly. They sit by the edge of the camp, watching as the Trolls continue to eat now that the disturbance is over. "He must have really been a dick to get them to lash out like that."

"Not really," She murmurs back, "He just barely insulted their 'honor' and they lost it." Huh. "I'm surprised he's alive, really. You only saw a little bit of it, but he's a scrap-fighter. If he'd just backed down, they would've stopped."

"Somehow, I doubt that concept's ever been explained to him." She smiles at him, "How come's you're not asking me why I saved him."

"Because I already know why."

"Oh. That's good. That makes one of us." Her smile just grows, before it suddenly falls and the color fades from her cheeks, "What's wrong? Aleya?"

"Shit." She grips her hair, standing quickly, "I - have to go. I never gave my Troll it's food, I - I got distracted by -  _shit._ " She runs out before she can finish but he guesses the rest pretty easily anyway. God, he hopes the Troll had been distracted too. 

"Stark," Yrana beckons him as soon as she's gone, most likely eavesdropping to know exactly when to speak, as she always does, "I need your hand."

"Um. Okay?" He pushes himself off of the seat, heading over warily and letting her take one of his hands to press down on a gape in Loki's side, "Oh. Ew. What did _that?"_

"A whip." Yeah, duh. He gives her a look. "Several times in the same area." Oh. He grimaces, lifting his hand when she places a cloth over the wound, and pressing down again when she gestures to.

He ends up doing that for most of the wounds and Loki never wakes during it. He supposes that maybe he shouldn't be so worried about that, but he can't help it. He's not as worried as he'd be if it were anyone else, but still. There's something niggling, and he doesn't like it.

His legs ache by the time Yrana lets him sit, and it's only the bleeding that she's finally stopped. The other wounds will take time to heal, apparently, but he's not dying anymore and that's ' _what you asked of me_.'

She heads back to her cold-broth, then, but not before handing him a bundled ball of cloth and a bowl of water. He gives it a disgusted look and hands it back, or at least, tries to. " _You_ brought him into my tent. You bathe him."

Tony glares at her, muttering, "It's not _your_ tent," But she barely reacts and he knows that someone has to do this or else infection and blah, blah.

"Ugh. You wouldn't do this for me, why am I bothering." Loki doesn't answer.

He sighs, picking the cloth up and trying hard to not just be spiteful and do the job haphazardly, because it's both his and Yrana's work that'll be ruined if he does, and he's pretty sure that more than two hours has passed since they started, so ...

Loki's skin twitches as he slides the cloth down over it, cleaning away the blood and the dirt, and whatever else there is on his body, letting himself fall into the rhythmic motion of: 'rinse, squeeze, wipe and rinse.'

It's therapeutic in it's own way and he's done in no time, drying Loki off with another cloth; patting it down his skin like he's seen Steve do to a painting of his.

Yrana's left by the time he turns around, which is really off-putting, because he hates being in here alone. What if a Troll comes in to be healed and demands _he_ do something about it? She could at least warn him, but then, she never does and she's never likely to.

Maybe ~~if~~ when they all escape, she'll finally loosen up a little and start acting like a decent human being. Or - well. A decent _Vanir._ Or maybe she'll just be the same old bitch as always and Tony will have to stop blaming the situation for her personality.

Speaking of escaping - Tony had left that circle before and had raced away in a way that had actually stopped their conversation. He hadn't been followed though, not until he'd actually interfered and made a bigger distraction than it had been before. 

Crowds don't distract the Trolls, they're used to slaves getting frightened and huddled together. The only time the Trolls are truly distracted is when they're fighting each other, and neither of them last long against the Leader - who always ends these fights - so it never lasts longer than ten minutes and is never really something that their captor's have to worry about. But -

But maybe it can be something _Tony_ can use. Maybe - 

Finding someone who can go toe-to-toe with the Leader, long enough for an escape plan to get going while the other Trolls are more distracted with seeing their Leader fight than anything else, could be just the start of a plan that he needs. The rest is what he'll need to think of for them all to do while the fight is underway, but a fighter, a _good_ , trained-for-this-fighter, is what he needs. Someone strong.

He looks over at Loki's unconscious form, and remembers Aleya's words. _He's a scap-fighter._ A small smile lights his face.

 _Bingo_.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now all you've got to do is convince him to help, Tony. Good luck.


	10. Chapter 10

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* * *

.

Tony sleeps fitfully.

Each time he even manages to doze off, he wakes again after what can only be a few minutes, and he flinches each time the tent's entrance darkens as the guard paces by.

Loki still lies on his stomach, his head pillowed by his folded arms, bandages covering his back, neck and legs. Yrana had returned before, followed by a stormy-looking Aulkret, and Tony had quite literally hidden behind the table at the sight of the Troll but he had only been after some salve or something, anyway, and had left soon after. He's pretty sure that that won't be the case when the other band has actually left, though, and that whatever punishment is waiting for him will be dealt out in _double_ later on.

His stomach drops whenever he thinks about that, truly dreading it, but right now changing Loki's bandages is a pretty good distraction. Yrana has made it pointedly clear that it must be done and that she won't be the one to do it. God, he really doesn't like her. But he'll tolerate her, if he has to. And he kinda does _need_ to, if he's going to get others healed as well.

Loki stirs a second time just as Tony wakes from another two minute doze but he doesn't move anymore than a slight twitch or open his eyes, which probably means that he's still got a lot more healing to do. He's not dying, which is good, better than before, but - Well. It _is_ good. But it also means that Tony has just saved Earth's most wanted War criminal and murderer.

Cap would be proud. He'd seen the moral high ground, and he'd taken it. He's a good person, bring out the fireworks.

Yrana shifts from where she is, sleeping on cloth in the corner, and the moon shines in through the tent's flap to light her frowning face. She looks less bitter and more troubled when she's sleeping, but never relaxed. He feels sorry for her.

Ugh. Tony slaps his face into his hands with a groan, laying his head back down over the make-shift bed that Loki's laying on after a while, and trying to sleep again. This time, he's woken after at least an hour - he's sure that it has been one - by one of the current Troll guards entering the tent. As soon as he's aware of what's approaching him with such unmistakable purpose, he lurches to his feet, knocking over a jug of water as he tries to get away, "No - "

The Troll reaches for him regardless, and he panics, "Y - if you take me out of here, you'll go to War!" He whisper-shouts it, at least, and when the hand halts with a growl, he calms himself as much as he can to think of a rational explanation for what he'd just spouted, "I'm ... I'm in charge of Loki. The Asgardian." He points, just to make it clear. "Until he heals. Uh - if I leave him for more than a few minutes, he could _die_ , and then there'll be war for you once his brother hears and - "

Loki stirs again suddenly, as if to puncture the point of him dying, cracking one eye open to stare at them both with confusion, and remarkable awareness for someone who should be dying. Perfect timing.

The Troll's face changes from a glare to an ugly looking smile, and it grabs at Tony's nearest arm, hauling him closer to drag him out of the tent with it. Tony lashes out, as usual, but all he gets is a chuckle for his troubles and an extra hard toss over the shoulders until they're at least a distance away from the healing tent.

Dirt clouds into his mouth when he's dropped onto his stomach and, for a second, he's too winded to move. That second is enough and he wastes it, because by the time he even tries to get up, the Troll has his tunic bunched by his shoulders, and his legs spread by it's hands. He bites down on his lower lip, hating it when he hears other slaves cry out in the night because anyone and everyone still awake can hear their shame and their pain, and he really doesn't want to be one of them right now.

So he muffles himself, pressing his hands to his mouth and shutting his eyes as he's thrusted into from behind, looking up at the stars and focusing on how cold it is, instead of how much his body stings and flushes as he's used. " _Muh_ \- " Bruises melt their way into his skin, marking him, and he blinks back tears from the pain and the pure _hurt_ he feels over it all.

How can this happen, to him, to all these people? How can things like this just go on under _Odin's_ nose. What happened to being the most knowledgeable and the most powerful being? He knew that that had been a load of bullshit when Thor had first ranted off about his father, but _Christ_ -

The Troll leans further over him, practically burying him under it's body, crushing him into the ground and thrusting itself in faster and deeper. Tony presses his hands against his pursed lips harder, squeezing his eyes shut and counting backward from 1000 in prime numbers.

By the time it's over, his skin is numb from the icy breeze outside, and his legs feel as though they've caved in from the grip that had been pressed over them throughout. He's shoved until he slumps to the ground, and the Troll retires for the night, having taken it's reward for guarding for half of it. For a few minutes, Tony just lies there; aching.

But then, with effort, he manages to push himself up and push his tunic down, standing as slowly as he can without falling to his knees again. He has to pick himself up five times before he's okay to walk, and he makes it to the healing tent with only ten gasps of pain. A new record.

Loki is unconscious again, or pretending to be, but that would make him considerate so it's probably the former. And really, he doesn't particularly care right now, anyway, as he just slumps onto the stool by the bed, resting his head by his friend's evil brother's torso and dropping right off to sleep again.

 

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* * *

.

 

He's woken by water splashed into his face.

The shock jars him into consciousness and he falls off of the stool, punching whoever it is nearest when he wakes before he's even rubbed the liquid from his eyes to see. Yrana slaps him across the face for the punch and he blinks himself awake until he's aware enough to see her standing there; holding a hand to her hip. Ha! Serves her right.

"Sorry," He says anyway. The Trolls are his enemy right now, he's not going to make anymore others unless he really needs to. "Didn't - don't wake me up like that again."

She sniffs, giving him an icy glare, before gesturing at the tent's flap, "The other band have left. I _thought_ you would like to know."

He frowns, still not quite there yet, before it clicks and he immediately looks through the tent's opening from where he is to try and catch a glimpse of the main campfire. There are the camp's Trolls but none of the others around at all. That had been quick, the sun's barely in the sky.

"Not exactly important." He mutters angrily, cranky from a lack of sleep and beyond tired. He still gets up anyway, wincing when he sees speckles of blood on the stool that he'd been sitting on, and he wipes dried drool from his chin. Yrana doesn't comment on the slap nor the blood, but he feels both as he walks; rubbing his cheek balefully.

It isn't hard to find some quick breakfast for the day and he hobbles his way across the camp, avoiding the mid-section like the plague. He's surprised that he hadn't been dragged out for the going-away ... _whatever_ it had been, before. Unless the slave-bond aspect of it isn't included in anything other than their lust.

Which is predictably logical when it comes to the monsters.

He chews on his bread, heading back to the healing tent before Yrana decides to dump Loki into the mud. It would be well-deserved, really, but it would also not allow him to heal properly and Tony kinda needs him in tip-top shape if he's going to do this. And there he goes again, thinking ahead when he doesn't even know how to get Loki to agree to the plan. Or to even agree to never say a word about it to the Trolls and to get Jesse and the others killed.

Which is probably where he should start. He'll need some sort of blackmail, something to get Loki to co-operate. Something that he can hold over him and -

"Tony!" He jumps, startled, and turns to see Aleya jogging toward him, "Tony - it's Mike, he's - " She stops, panting, fanning a hand over her face as though that'll help much, "I - "

"What is it?" He faces her fully now, frowning as concern overrules any of his planning, "What's happened? Who's Mike?"

"Nothing - that bad. He's a food-slave, like me. He's just - he's sick. I need your help." His help? He opens his mouth to protest, to remind her that he's not exactly the best when it comes to this sort of thing, but she interrupts him, "It's just a migraine but it's stopping him from working. I said that you'd know what to do. He'll get in trouble if you don't help, he's already behind on the meals -"

"Alright, okay, hang on. I'm coming. I just - my method might not work on him -"

She shakes her head, grabbing him by the arm, "Doesn't matter. Just try." The grim expression printed over her face is enough to spur him on, and he knows that it isn't just being behind that worries her. Something else must be.

Aleya practically drags him when he's apparently too slow, but he actually can't make himself walk any faster after a night sitting up on a wooden stool. Especially after the Troll guard had taken him -

He shakes his head, refusing to think about any of it, and to focus instead on how he tries to deal with migraines. Typically he gets them when he's been working over his screens for too long and he'd mentioned this to Aleya before, when she'd just had a mild headache. He sort of regrets this now, he doesn't know how to help someone else with the same issue, and he knows how guilty he'll feel when he doesn't manage to prevent this 'Mike' from being hurt.

It's how he feels every day in this place.

"Here." She pushes him toward the food tent and they enter it together, immediately honing in on the small crowd of food-slaves in the corner, surrounding what must be Mike on the floor, while most of the others continue with their duties to stop themselves from getting a backlash as well, "Move it. _Move_ everyone, he's here."

Like a tide, the crowd recedes, staring at Tony and letting him have some space to move through them. Used to this sort of treatment back home, he tries not to focus on it too much and instead goes to his knees beside Mike, putting his forefingers on either side of his temple and lightly tapping it. Mike moans, his eyes squeezed shut, "Can someone get a cloth or something?"

A woman to his left leaves and grabs one of the cloths that's used to lay food out on, handing it to him as quickly as she can. Tony throws it over Mike's face, smothering the light. "Thanks. Is there any cold water?" Aleya shakes her head, "Seriously?"

"We can't spare any Tony. They'll whip us all." He sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "They're already riled beyond anything else."

"What do you mean?" He moves from massaging and tapping Mike's temples, to his inner wrists, and his shoulders, "Another fight?"

She gives him a strange look before it suddenly clears, "Oh. You didn't leave that tent since helping Loki, did you." He doesn't need to answer. "The - the rest of us. When we saw you save him, despite who he is, we - none of us have been following our duties properly. We started fighting back more." What? "Not violently, god no!" She adds when he must look alarmed.

"Just little things," Someone he can't see murmurs, "Making trouble."

"They aren't happy about it, to put it lightly." Aleya finishes, "And I got worried they might come after you for it or - "

"No more than usual." He reassures her, and she smiles.

"Yeah. Which - is probably due to the fact that every time they hurt you, they're just adding to the martyr you're becoming." _Martyr?_ Wrong word to use, he's not dead, but he hears what she's saying. He takes in a breath, feeling Mike relax under his fingers, "You're doing it." She then whispers and he smiles at her. Inside, though. Inside, he's churning. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? On one hand, it means more of the slaves are willing to try their hand at leaving this place, on the other ... the Trolls could see it coming.

"Maybe." He gives her, leaning back.

 

 ~

 

Afterwards, he wanders the camp, thinking back to his plan and how much these people really need the help. Now more than ever if they finally want to try fighting back. They need a goal, an outlet for their frustrations and their anger. They need a fucking _plan_ goddammit. He sits over a rock, hidden from view, with his head in his hands. He needs more information if this is going to work. He needs to know how this all works.

He needs something that he can hold over Loki to get him to _agree_ before he even starts anything at all. God. He fists his hands into his hair, sliding them up his face. It's not gotten any longer since the day he arrived. He wonders, when they ever get out, if whatever the Trolls did to them all will wear off.

He hopes so.

Sighing, the muscles in his legs creak as he stands and stretches and it's then that it clicks. The main circle! What better place to get information than among the other Trolls that sit with the Leader?

He stops then, not even having realised that he'd been walking at all, and wonders how exactly he should feel about this; voluntarily sitting as a pet at the feet of Aulkret, like before. He feels his skin crawl at the memory.

But then. After about a minute of him debating with himself, he forcefully decides that he _should_ try and just feel satisfied that his humiliation will help save others.

Hopefully. 

 

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* * *

.

 

Loki doesn't react to the bread that's handed to him, he only follows it with his eyes until it's set against the bed, before meeting Tony's gaze again and leaning back.

He hides every wince, but can't quite stop a few hisses of pain every other second, his face blank all the while. Tony matches him as best he can, sitting on the stool opposite with a small smile. "So." Loki blinks at him, slowly, "How are you feeling?"

He gets a raised eyebrow next, "You saved me." Tony leans back on the stool, nodding when it becomes evident that Loki actually expects an answer to that statement.

"Yeah. I guess I did."

"And why ... would you do something like that?" Lifting the bread, Loki breaks it in his hands and bites into the smaller piece.

"Simple. I told you the answer before," Crumbs litter Loki's lap and he pauses eating, raising his eyes from his fingers to look at Tony again, "Everyone in this camp, who's _not_ a Troll, has my sympathy and my help. Including, whether you want it or not, _you_."

A lump of bread falls to the floor. Neither of them bother to pick it up and, soon, some ant-like creature nabs it anyway, "How chivalrous of you."

"I was going more for decent, but I like that too." More bread falls and Loki leaves it where it is, "Do you mind? Half of us barely ever get a whole loaf to ourselves, so treasure it." More falls again, and Loki actually smirks, despite not purposefully dropping it. He doesn't actively pick it up though, so Tony does for him, blowing the dirt off and eating it himself. "Aren't you going to ask?"

"Ask what?"

Tony swallows, raising an eyebrow as innocently as he can, "Um. About your torso?" Loki's eyes flicker but he doesn't change his expression, "Don't tell me you can't feel it. I mean, I know when Thor broke his leg, he barely felt it at all, but this is your entire _torso_." He purposefully excludes any actual explanation and just waits.

A beat, or two, later and Loki's chuckling to himself, "Very clever." Not the reaction Tony'd wanted, but it's something. At least he'd noticed the lie, as Tony had known he would.

"Yeah, well, there actually  _would_ be something wrong with your torso if it weren't for me, you know." The bread is tilted toward him, like a toast of wine, "Gratitude must be another thing you're deficient in, huh."

Before Loki can answer, though, Yrana walks into the tent; scowling immediately when she sees him awake and turning her back to busy herself with something else.

Better get this over with before she decides their conversation is worth her time to eavesdrop, "Okay. I'm going to jump right in and ask you. Do you want to be here?"

The look he gets could probably be funny if over a thousand lives weren't riding on this, "The only way I would _ever_ wish to be here is if I were ki - "

"Okay, got it, you don't want to be here." Tony puts a hand up to stop his words, loving how it actually works. Possibly only because Loki's still pretty weak right now and needs rest more than anger, "You're stuck mortal-sitting me around a bunch of Trolls who don't ... respect you. Right?" Loki just looks at him. "Okay. So - what if I told you, that - I could help you out of that?" Loki sneers. "Look scarface, the only way you get out of here, is if _I_ get out of here. You know that, right? And I'm not leaving without everyone else. I  _refuse_ to." 

"Then I suppose we are both stuck here." Is he being cryptic on purpose, or - no, forget it. Of course he is. Tony curls his hands into fists, leaning closer, the anger that Loki always seems to incite coming back full swing.

He reaches into the folds of his tunic, pulling out the ring that he'd stolen from Aulkret's tent. He tosses it toward Loki, watching as he automatically catches it to examine the gold that it's made from, "That's Aulkrets'." He provides, lowering his voice, "He took it from the last leader of this band, after he killed it." He wonders when exactly Auklet had become a 'he'. After he'd discovered his name? It's a little off-putting, really, but he ignores that for later, "It's incredibly precious to him. A status of his leadership." He rears back in faux-shock, staring at Loki with wide-eyes, "Did you _steal_ that?"

For a moment, Loki actually looks worried, rolling his tongue over his teeth with a barely-concealed expression that shows some slight resemblance to being impressed. "How did you get this?"

"Get what?" Tony asks lightly, tilting his head at him. Footsteps pound behind them as one of the Trolls passes by, and while Tony instinctually freezes in his own fear, he does notice Loki straighten at the sound as well, his hand closing over the ring, "You're in pretty bad shape right now, Loki. I'd wager another attack would even kill you. And who's to say next time, I won't be there to stop it?"

He's scoffed at, "And in exchange for your _protection_ , what is it you want me to do, exactly?"

"It's more than protection, I'm offering Loki. I'm giving you a way out of here."

Skepticism. Expected, but not helpful. "If I do _what_ in return?"

" _Well._ I need you to swear you won't breathe a word of it to anyone, first." Loki leans back, relaxed now that he has something he can hold over Tony instead of the other way around. In his element, "Don't get too cocky. You cross me, and Thor'll be the first to hear about it when he comes back for his next visit. I doubt he'll be happy. _Plus_. If they kill me, you die. And I'm not above threatening suicide to save these people, so - "

"Yes, yes, you've made your point clear. I swear I'll not say a word." Yeah right.

"I don't believe you." Loki glares at him, and Yrana has stopped working behind them now, trying to eavesdrop on their murmured conversation. They need to speed this up. Without warning, Tony stands, throwing the medallion that he'd taken alongside the ring at Loki and leaving for the tent's flap as soon as he catches it, looking startled. Two objects of value, and in his condition, he won't survive another attack of the type of brutality stealing would cause. Another pound of footsteps is already approaching and he's almost there before -

"Wait." It's said so quietly, he almost doesn't hear it, and it must _kill_ Loki to even say it in the first place. Is this how he feels when it's the other way around, because Tony could get drunk on this feeling of triumph. He turns back, walking toward Loki slowly, "I swear. On - on anything I hold dear. I will not breathe a word to anyone about any of this. Is that enough? _Stark?_ "

Tony smiles. Yepp. Definitely could get drunk on this. He doesn't want to take Loki by his word but he's got time to work on that, and he needs him to stew, "It's alright." He gives him, "But I'm not going to tell you it right now anyway. There are too many ears and - you look like hell. Get some sleep, finish that bread, and I'll talk to you later." Loki doesn't stop glaring. "You might want to give the ring and the medallion back, by the way." They're literally thrown in his face, but he catches it, glaring back himself now. "You're _welcome_ too, you know. For me saving your fucking _life._ "

"Why should I be thankful? You hardly did it for free."

"You're one to talk." Loki only pointedly shoves the bread into his mouth and lies back to try and sleep again. Tony opts to stay for the night again, just in case he does try to tell anyone before he's even heard Tony's plan. But he needs to out the stolen objects back first so -

Before leaving, he loudly asks Yrana if 'there's any methods that she knows that would hurt a patient when they're not co-operating', just to shove in the point that Loki is vulnerable right now. At Tony's mercy.

She understands right away though he's glad that she hasn't put their conversation together yet, "You could always set a stick on fire and force it into the gaping wound on his side." The muscles on Loki's bareback coil as he listens but he doesn't respond. "I could show you - "

"No." Tony steps between her and Loki, "I just - wanted an idea. In case." With a shrug, she only smiles anyway and turns back to whatever it is she had been doing before. Mind of a serial-killer, is the first thing Tony associates with her. Yeash.

He cringes, turning toward Loki for a quick check that he's still trying to rest, holding the ring and medallion tight in both his hands. He then slips out the tent as quickly as he can, running through the camp to make it back before Aulkret notices them gone. The tent is as empty as it had been before, when he'd overheard the fact that Aulkret keeps any jewelry stolen from slaves and that he had killed the last leader of this band years ago. He'd created the rest of the story and the connection between the last leader and the ring in the hopes of scaring Loki and he's pretty hopeful that it had worked.

Now just to make sure that it doesn't look like he's moved anything and he's - 

A heavy footfall sounds just by the tent's flap, two seconds from opening it, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Another footstep and he drops immediately; out of instinct. He hears the flap being pushed aside and shuts his eyes, pretending to be asleep, which is absolutely ridiculous, but god, his heart's beating way too fast, he's going to have a heart attack, or he's going to be discovered, and then that's everything gone down in flames before he's even started and then all the other slaves will be stuck here and that'll be on him and - and the arc reactor presses from how he's lying but he _daren't_ move.

Footsteps approach him slowly and he tenses just before his tunic is slid upward by a hand, whispering over his thighs. He pretends to sigh in his sleep, swallowing his pride and forcing himself to keep his eyes relaxed and shut. Sweat slides down his back, he can feel every droplet, and the Troll's hand sweeps through it as it cups Tony's lower half, turning him over onto his back. Tony remains as limp as he can, but he can't stop himself from shaking. He can smell it's breath, can't tell if it's Aulkret or not, and he's so afraid that he'll be caught and made to confess about what he'd been doing in here, that he almost does pass out as he lays there.

Far too close, and with the Trolls as angry as Aleya had said they were -

His legs are suddenly squeezed, pressed together and his body scooped up, lifted about two feet in the air before being thrown to the ground beside the pole. He cries out, can't stop it, and opens his eyes - staring up at the Troll that is _thankfully_ not the Leader, "I - "

"This is not a tent for _slaves._ " Tony clambers to his feet, backing away and rubbing at his hip as it throbs from hitting the pole.

"Sorry, I - another one of you brought me in here and I - " He lies, and the stammering must help because he's actually not questioned any more than that and left to flee.

Martyr image he remembers, and wonders if it's genuinely true.

He _runs_ out the tent, panting more from the adrenaline that that moment had caused rather than anything else, and he slumps when he's far enough away - making it back to his stool when he finds the healing tent again.

God.

Yrana has left bandages for him, waiting for his return; another way that she has of telling him that she won't do it but _someone_ has to. Loki is asleep again anyway, so at least he doesn't have to feel too awkward with getting up-close-and-personal with his naked body.

He's still shaking as he picks them up, swallowing twice until he calms down, and it's then that he remembers how much of a victim he is in this as well. It's easy to think of this objectively. To want to _save_ people in such an awful situation, that sometimes he actually forgets that he's in the same one himself. It's only when he's hurt as well that it sticks into him, and that stab of fear he feels each time a Troll passes or touches him is what drives that home.

He has to get out of here.

Looking down at Loki's body, he inspects the wounds, how they're healing quicker than is normal and so on. Loki is going to agree. He has to.

He's got no one else that can do this.

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait!!!

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* * *

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Tony doesn't sleep well.

For one, he's far too uncomfortable for it mostly but also, when he finally does manage to doze at least a little, he's plagued by bad dreams and worries and doubts until he has to wake and pace for a bit to calm down. Yrana has decided to sleep in the tent tonight, as well, but she's taken one of the cots in the corner and is out like a light already. Loki hasn't woken since they'd last spoken, and the only place that he can really rest is by sitting on the stool and leaning his head against the healing bed.

It puts an ache in his neck, and he yawns while glancing past the flap at the night sky. The guard for the night has just changed over, and is currently three sections down away from him. It's the perfect moment to speak.

Taking up the spoon from his last meal, he spins it around and _jams_ it into Loki's back. He knows that he's hit one of his larger bruises, had aimed so he doesn't reopen any major wounds, and Loki stiffens immediately before settling again. Tony huffs. Fine then. Another three jabs, two in the same area and one just under his armpit, has Loki at least stirring. But that isn't good enough, and if he keeps at it, any time they have to talk in private will be lost.

_Goddamn you Loki, if you're doing this on purpose._

Lifting himself up over the bed, he balances on his hands and kicks Loki instead. That earns him a groan, but when he tries to do it again, his ankle is grabbed and twisted, "Ah - " He silences himself quickly, slapping a hand to his mouth but losing his balance along with it and falling into the stool. He catches it, wincing, glowering when Loki slowly rolls over the bed to face him, " _Finally_." He whispers, glancing over his shoulder to see if the guard's been attracted at all. No, thankfully. Still three down.

Loki only glares at him, a drop of blood on his lip where he'd bitten it. Probably from the pain, but Tony refuses to feel bad for that, and sits himself down again to get to business, "So. We need to talk." Loki doesn't move. "Have you thought about what I said yesterday?"

"Which part?" Easing himself up, Loki keeps his voice quiet as well, but that's probably only because he hasn't drunk anything in a while and by the looks of him, needs water desperately, "The part where you may shove fire into my wounds, or the part where you'll accuse me of theft?"

Tony stands, heading to the table to pour water into a bowl, only replying when he's close enough to whisper again, "The part where you help us, and yourself, get out of here."

"No."

Tony shrugs, lifting the bowl to his own lips and drinking, "Fine. Theft and fire it is then."

"Your threats are not exactly _good_ , Stark," Loki mutters, actually smiling about it because that's just how he acts. Or - more accurately - how someone less-than-sane acts. "Give me some water and I'll give you an honest answer."

"You? Honest?" Loki holds out a hand for the bowl. "Say please."

There's a small pause and Tony drinks some more within it, before, "Please." Oh. Slowly lowering the bowl, Tony gives him a narrow glance, but Loki isn't looking at him now and is staring down at his bandaged hand instead. He sighs, placing the bowl into it.

"There." Loki drinks almost half of it in one gulp, shuddering, "Now speak."

"I have thought about it," He coughs into his hand, wiping his mouth with the back of it afterward which has Tony wrinkling his nose at the thought of germs and the like being returned straight to the source, "And I still think it impossible."

"Well you haven't heard my plan yet." Loki raises an eyebrow at that, looking intrigued, "It's not detailed. Or - well, it relies a lot on chance, let's say. But it's all I've got right now."

"In other words, you have nothing."

"Not exactly." Loki scoffs, leaning back before suddenly belching and putting a hand to his throat in surprise. Tony almost laughs at his own surprise at that, staring at him, "Could you control yourself for a few seconds please? Not all of us follow a Troll's examples." It's a stab at Loki's no-longer-usual grace, and a reminder of where he is now and how far he technically has fallen. He doesn't get much of a reaction and that's good. That means that Loki must have felt it. At least, he thinks so anyway. Reading people is really Natasha's thing not his, but he's moderate still after working with the board and Fury for all this time.

"I could always have you, if you'd like me to completely copy them." Tony straightens immediately at that, the smile that had been worming it's way onto his face snapped off and he stands again - taking the bowl and putting it aside.

Loki doesn't look particularly impressed by the show of taking away his water, but he does frown when Tony suddenly wraps a hand around his own opposite wrist and _squeezes_ as hard as he can. To bruise it, redden it, anything.

"What - ?"

Tony explains airily before he can finish, "Touching a slave but not being a Troll is a crime around here." Loki squints at him, his face darkening when he looks down at Tony's wrist again. He always used to bruise easily but he'd never have thought that would ever come in handy.

With obviously-not-Troll fingerprints now over his wrist, Tony tugs at his own hair to give it the appearance of having been pulled, staggering back and painting a look of harrassed fear onto his face. Putting on expressions has always come easy too. The guard is still three sections down, sitting by a bunch of rocks, but when Tony turns to run toward it and claim that Loki has hurt or used him, his wrist is grabbed quickly and used to keep him still.

"No." He turns to face him, his face cold now with the fury that he'd hidden behind his false expressions,"You _dare_ to go and I will - I - " Loki swallows, gripping him tighter, and even weak as he is, his hand bruises Tony further, "Just _try_ to leave, Stark."

"I don't need to." Tony smiles, "I can just scream. The guard's likely to investigate when it's the middle of the night. It'll probably think that it'll get a show if it's one of his friends just having some ' _fun'_ too, but when it sees _you_ ... "

Loki lets him go as though burned, and Tony steps back. "I'll help you. Damn you, Stark, you have made your point thrice over. I'll help you." Tony scoffs in his face and he sighs, "What does it take to convince you of that, then?"

"I wasn't doing this threat to prove I could, you fucked up idiot. I was doing it because of your comment." Before Loki can say anything to that, he slaps the bowl back on the bed, uncaring of how much sloshes out over the sheets, "But I'm glad I've finally got your cooperation anyway." Loki looks almost flustered, which just pisses him off further, but he doesn't have the time to try and rip him out over this, "Meet me and a few others in the eating tent, tomorrow, just after noon. We'll tell you our plan then." Loki presses his lips together, rubbing at his injured shoulder for a moment before nodding, "Good. See you then."

He leaves the tent after that, not wanting to be even an inch near Loki, and finds another one near by. He then huddles down next to a group of other slaves in the furthest corner and tries to get some sleep before dawn comes.

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* * *

.

"Morning!" He hands Beth a roll of bread when he passes her by, "You okay?" She looks frazzled by his sudden attention, especially when he hugs her, "Don't worry. It'll be okay, you know."

"Uh - "

He presses his face closer, tilting his lips toward her ear and murmuring, "Tell Jesse not to let anyone near the eating tent just after noon." Pulling back, he sees her eyes widen just a little and hides it with his own face from anyone who might see, "Take care of yourself, okay? Stay out of trouble."

Blinking twice, she nods, smiling, "I hear you." He smiles back, patting her shoulder, and leaving her quickly before any Trolls get too suspicious or too handsy. He passes by three others on his way but doesn't risk giving them the same warning, just in case he really is being watched. He wouldn't put it past Aulkret, really, if what Aleya had told him really is true. He's avoided the healing tent so far, even though Loki's left it according to Yrana. He's not supposed to be up, is still limping, but she hadn't stopped him because he technically isn't her patient and she really doesn't care either.

So he could be anywhere around here and Tony hates how jumpy he already is around the Trolls, he doesn't want to add Loki to his source of anxiety too. The next best thing for that is to literally just forget about him, which, seeing as he's pretty essential to his plan, is kind of hard to do. He sighs, running a hand through his hair and passing the campfire. One of the Trolls is spread out there, sleeping on it's back with a huge hand resting on it's stomach.

Tony puts a hand to his mouth at the smell of rotting food when he notices the piled plates beside it and the flies buzzing over the meat. What a waste. That could so easily have gone to a slave - a _human_ dammit, or wherever they're from - to ease their hunger. Now it's just lying there, ruined. Another Troll wanders into the area, and Tony quickly ducks out before they notice him, heading further away from their eyes and their smell and their _hands_.

His tunic flutters up as he walks and he presses it down to his skin to keep it still, bowing his head against the wind when it makes his eyes water. He bumps into another slave and they both startle, staring at each other, before heading in their opposite directions. Everything feels too tight today, like there's something he should be doing, but other than waiting for noon, he can't -

"You move through us all quickly, don't you." Tony stops, shutting his eyes for a moment to count back from ten, "About two-thirds of the camp has you as the #1 gossip right now. It's like being back on Earth, isn't it. Fame wherever you go."

"Get over yourself," He pushes past Dave, stopping only when his path is blocked. He's walked so far from the centre camps to avoid the Trolls that he hadn't even realised how close he is to the edge. Now. Now it's glaring him in the face with how stupid he'd been. "You know you can't touch me, right?"

Dave just rolls his eyes, "Who needs to get over themselves _now_ _?"_

"Well with your track record, I'm _so_ sorry for wanting to be clear." He turns on his heels, bracing to run, but another slave - wearing yellow - steps out from the bushes. He's tall, much taller than Tony and even Dave, and he towers with enough muscle to possibly lift a car. Maybe Tony should side with this guy instead. But then again, considering who he's decided to be friend with, maybe not. He turns again, "What do you _want_ Dave?"

"This isn't about me, Tony. I mean," He laughs softly, "This _is_ your fault." Tony takes a step to the side when the other guy walks toward him from behind, spinning until he can face them both, "You made such a fucking scene rescuing that guy the other day, that the Trolls are all taking it out on the rest of us. You know, the little ones, who don't actually _matter_ to big-shots like you." Finally feeling the heat too, then, huh. Figures. "'Cause they can't badly hurt you, can they. Not really. Not without starting a war."

"Someone's been a bit of an eavesdropper."

"News travels, don't flatter yourself." Dave tugs at his hair with both hands, looking furious now, "God, even when you _know_ that you've caused more shit for us, you don't even care do you."

"I'm not the one wanting to trade secrets for _sex_." Tony snaps back, "And you think I _don't care_? All I've been been doing is trying to  - "

" _Shut up Stark_. Shut your fucking mouth before I make you." Dave's friend flexes threatening at that, and Tony gives him a look of utter disgust, "If Mike can't speak because of you, then you shouldn't be allowed to say another _fucking word_."

Can't speak? Tony looks at the other guy again - Mike - and notices how he swallows at that exact moment. No tongue then. Jesus. "I - I didn't." He takes in a breath, clenching his fists, "Look. Whatever the hell it is you think, Dave, I'm trying to save these people. So cut - " Something suddenly bowls into him from behind and he falls, landing hard on his stomach and getting the wind knocked out from the blow. Something, or someone, presses into him, grabbing his arms and holding them behind his back and he struggles immediately, lifting his head up to breathe and knocking it into his attackers own. He rolls over when they're pushed off, hissing out when that rubs over the scrapes in his hands, but before he can even get up Dave kicks him full in the chest.

The reactor flickers when his heart falters, the hole in his body given too much pressure, and the oxygen that he'd gained only seconds before vanishes when he tries to recover. His cry of pain is muffled behind hands that shove him down into the mud. Others hold him there, stopping any chance at defence, and he sees them now. Three of them. They'd planned it, had one hidden to take him by surprise.

"N - " He kicks out as best he can, but the third sits on his legs, pinning them down with her weight.

"Open his mouth." He bites the fingers that shove through and is punched for that afterward. A knife is pulled out. Oh God. God, no. He screams around the dirty fingers in his mouth, trying to turn his head, and when he bucks again he manages to upturn the woman from his legs. With a push, he then lifts them off of the ground, curling them over his head until he can roll backwards and pretty much duck-and-roll. He lands on an arm, gasping, but still tries to get to his feet as quickly as possible.

The woman jumps to lunge at him again but he lifts a leg up to slam his foot into her ribs before she can, sending her sprawling. Dave still holds the knife, running at him now without thinking, and Tony sweeps his leg under his feet to knock him down. He winces when he turns to Mike, knowing that he won't be able to bring him down too.

"Let me go." He's only stared at, his heart pounding and every area of skin aching or throbbing from pain, "I'm sorry. For what happened to you. I really am. But if you do anything to me, if you - no one here has a _chance_ of - _ow_." He pauses for breath, placing a hand over his arm and gritting his teeth.

When he looks up again, Mike has his hands at his sides, and he gains a nod. Tony sucks in a gasp of relief, nodding back, and intending on limping back to the healing tent when Dave decides to get up again, "What the hell are you doing, Mike? What, you don't care about your own damned tongue anymore?"

Tony takes a step back, rubbing at his arm, "I really doubt that he doesn't. But hurting me won't get it back, and hurting the Trolls is more of a revenge. Letting me go gets that."

Dave scoffs, holding the knife up again, but a Troll passes the area and he knows he's lost his chance, visibly calming from absolute rage to a quiet fury in just under a second. He laughs just like he had before then, soft and as menacing as he can make it, "This isn't it, you know, Stark. I'd still watch your back if I were you."

"Learn how to threaten first, Dave, then I'll take you seriously." He starts to walk away, flinching when his legs twinge.

"Oh I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you." Tony rolls his eyes. "Next time you sleep, I won't take your _tongue_. I'll take what you owe me already. And I'll get fucking _permission_ for it too." Tony whirls around to stare at him in pure shock, his skin crawling at the next laugh that that gets, before Dave bends to help the woman up and leave the area. Mike watches him for a moment, lowering his head when Tony looks back at him before gesturing something.

Startled, Tony glances down when he understands, yanking his tunic over his thighs from where it had ridden up. "You - stay away from that guy." Mike only shrugs slowly, walking away. And dare he admit, as much as he does feel sorry for the guy, Tony's actual fear over what Dave had said overrides it entirely. Permission. He can't, the Trolls wouldn't allow it. They hate it when they touch each other.

Unless - unless it's ordered. Like the night with the two camps, when he'd been tied around Ayana. Or when some slaves are forced to have sex together only to be watched, or where others are ordered to help a Troll hold another still or even prepare them sometimes, though it's hardly needed. It could happen. Jesus, it _could_ , and that terrifies him.

With permission, and with Tony already on their bad side on too many accounts, Dave would have free reign. He chews on the inside of his cheeks, nipping at already torn skin there, before practically running to the healing camp. He needs to get out of here. This plan needs to work.

It's almost noon, and Yrana isn't anywhere around so he tries a hand at making salve himself when another healer comes inside and helps him. She smoothes it over his arm, humming under her breath until it starts to warm and heal the pulled muscle that it must have been, sending him away when he's done.

Noon. Noon. Just after noon.

The eating tent isn't far, and a slave's tent stands just near it. He heads inside the latter, walking to the corner to peek through the tiny gap in the cloth at the tent, biting his lip. As asked, no one is around it at the moment. Most are dealing with the Trolls food, probably, and others will be tending to them or just hiding as well.

So no ones around to ruin this.

He inhales slowly, shaking from anticipation, but as time wanders on and nothing happens, his mind focuses on Dave once again. He tries not to worry about it, hopes that it's just an empty threat, or that the Trolls refuse it, but it still niggles and scares him. Somehow, the thought of another slave forcibly raping him seems so much worse than what has already happened. Maybe it's just because it's Dave. Or maybe it's because, despite the situation they're all in, this guy has always only been thinking about himself and that he won't care if he 'damages' Tony, emotionally or physically.

If he gets permission, Tony may have to force himself to take Dave down. He won't kill him, not unless he really has to, but if he finds out that he's not the only slave that this has happened to, or if Dave even tries with him on his own anyway, he has no qualms about rendering the guy completely useless. And sexless, if it comes to it. God, putting a hand to his head, he sighs through his teeth, clenching his jaw.

He shouldn't thinking about this now, he should -

Loki suddenly appears in his vision then, walking toward the eating tent, and all other thoughts vanish. Aha. Here we go.

Tony leans on his toes, watching closely. Loki doesn't seem to care that he's entering a slave's unit, looking paler than usual as he shouldn't be up yet, but he can walk fine so he's obviously healing pretty quickly too. There are no Trolls with him and when he goes inside, ten more minutes pass by where still, no one else appears. Tony blinks, surprised despite himself. He'd been more than 70% sure that Loki would have told one of them by now, but he obviously hasn't. This would have been the perfect opportunity for him to gain respect in the camp too, by filtering out the rebels within it and turning them over. But he hasn't taken that chance, which could really mean anything.

Either he's bought Tony's threats or he really, really wants to get out of here by any means necessary. Or he's just worried that if Tony gets killed in this, he will too. Which - is probably it, really.

Eventually, after waiting at least twenty more minutes, Loki leaves the tent. He doesn't look the least bit surprised that Tony hasn't turned up and seems to be eating some bread as he walks back to the healing camp as well. Right then.

This means something. It hasn't earned Loki trust, not even close, but it does mean that Tony can relay the plan to him now and see how they can get it to work. He also knows that he has Loki's full cooperation now. And that's useful.

"Mr Stark?"

Tony spins around, jumping right out of his skin, "Jesus!" He looks down, relaxing when he sees who it is, "Oh, hey Kyle. Don't sneak up on me, please."

"Sorry," He plays with the hem of his tunic, "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, go ahead. And call me Tony okay?" Kyle looks incredibly pleased with that which makes Tony smile despite everything else, and he nods eagerly.

"Okay. Tony." He stops fiddling, smiling back, "I - um. I just wanted to ask if you knew a man called Dave? He - because he said he was your friend but he looked ... angry. I just wanted to check."

The smile falls off of Tony's face like it hadn't even been there, "Who did he say that to?"

"Rose." Kyle looks wary now, as though he thinks that he's said something bad, "What's wrong? Did he lie?"

"Yeah. Massive lie." Gritting his teeth, Tony takes Kyle's hand and starts to head out of the tent, "What else did he say? Where is Rose?"

"He was just asking who you talk to and stuff." Leading him now, Kyle starts to pull him toward one of the other tents, presumably where Rose is, "I thought he wanted to meet people."

More like to find some leverage. Tony bites that back with effort, trying not to squeeze Kyle's hand, and they both hide when a Troll passes for a moment before walking again. "Do you think you can tell me what he said, word-by-word?"

"I think so?"

"Good. Go." Kyle worries over his lip, thinking and walking at the same time, before telling Tony that Dave had approached Rose in the tent and had asked where Tony was. When she hadn't known, he'd asked who would, and had then gone after Aleya. At that, Tony tells Kyle to go to Rose and explain that Dave is a 'very bad man', while he runs off to find Aleya.

He's panicking, he knows, but he has no idea what Dave's really playing at and he doesn't want to think about what he could be doing or saying to Aleya. The fact alone that he'd known about Rose at all is worrying in itself. Just how often has Dave been watching him? It's disgusting, frightening even, and it's pissing him off too.

He turns the corner, hoping that he'll find Aleya near the campfire and where Dave can't approach before he can warn her, but he's grabbed from around the waist before he can even walk toward it and thrown backward, _"Ah!"_ Aulkret steps toward him when he collapses, looking more furious than he has ever seen him. "Wh - ?"

"Did you not learn the _first time_ , mortal?" Tony blinks against a haze over his eyes, shaking his head to try and think. It doesn't work, "Entering my tent is forbidden."

"I didn't - " He screams when his leg is stood on, pressed down at an angle that _grinds_ , "I didn't go in your tent, I - !"

He's lifted up, squeezed, and thrown again. He lands against a pole hard, and something warm fills his mouth, "This will be your last warning. Heed it."

Aulkret lifts him one more time, carrying him into the nearest tent and dropping him over the ground. Tony cries out when his bruises create more bruises, bones cracking from the fall. He wonders, belatedly, if this is when they kill him.

But no. It's never about that is it. Aulkret's hands pull at his tunic and he shuts his eyes, turning his face into the crook of his elbow.

He barely notices when three others walk inside as well and barely restrains himself from crying either. 

He needs this plan to work. More than anything.

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	12. Chapter 12

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**Hello. I am sorry to give false hope of a new chapter, but this is just a warning.**

**I am working on a project that will take a lot of my time away from fic writing. I will still try to update but please don't send me messages about them if I don't soon.**

**Hopefully, if this project works out, it'll all be for my readers anyway.**

**Thank you for understanding. This will be deleted when there is a new chapter.**

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